


Protinus

by WindowRaindrops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Batman inspired, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Revenge, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2018-11-14 11:05:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11206797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindowRaindrops/pseuds/WindowRaindrops
Summary: What if the most powerful wizard in the world wasn't who we thought it was? With the help of The Boy Who Lived and The Brightest Witch of Her Age, a girl hell-bent on revenge will change the wizarding world forever.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I first posted this on FF.net but decided to post here as well. This is my first attempt at writing fiction, so do go easy on me. The story is set in modern day and will follow an OC. I do draw inspiration from other works, as seen in this chapter. Note the labels. Reviews are welcome! Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters except the ones I've created. Harry Potter is owned by J.K Rowling et cetera, et cetera.

"Greatness from small beginnings" –Sir Francis Drake

* * *

 

The moonlight struggled to shine amongst the pollution and the smoke. Cars were at a complete standstill, completely routine for a Friday night in the city. The cabbies honked incessantly.

Near the ticketing office of the local movie theater, a young girl raved about her experience. "God, lightsabers are so cool! Wasn't that awesome, Dad?" She didn't wait for a response. "Can we watch A New Hope when we get home? Pretty please?" She pleaded to her parents, switching the direction of her puppy dog eyes from on parent to the other.

"Sure honey, whatever you want." Her father chuckled, tussling her hair.

"I'll make the popcorn," added her mother. The girl's eyes lit up, and she hugged both adults tightly.

"Come on, we should get a move on if we want to finish the movie by bedtime." Dad urged.

"Do we need to apparate again?" The girl whispered to her mother cautiously, not wanting to draw suspicion from passersby.

"Yes, but not here. Too many no-majes nearby. We might need to head to that alley up ahead." As they approached the corner, the mother became aware of two distinct sets of footsteps following closely. She instinctively reached out and squeezed the girl's hand. Her pace quickened.

"Stop." They froze. "And we'd love it if you would remove your hand from your wand holster, Mrs. Wayne."

"Hands up where we can see them." The other added. The trio turned around slowly, obliging to the pair's orders. A man with almost white blond hair in robes was accompanied by a woman with dark, curly hair. Their wands were aimed at the girl's parents.

"So, I see that the Dark Lord has gone international." The girl's eyes shot up to her mother's face at her sudden statement.

"Ah, not quite. Not yet, anyways. Just… making a strategic move in the heat of war. Although, my dear, that is one hell of an idea. I'm sure many American wizards would share our sentiment regarding an undesirable marriage such as yours."

"You're a bloody disgrace to your race!" The woman spat.

"Now, now. No need to get so emotional, Bellatrix. I'm sure we can manage this without resorting to petty insults." He chided his companion. "The Dark Lord has been concerned with your financial dealings, Mr. and Mrs. Wayne. The Order isn't wealthy enough to operate in its current scale with its known members, but Wayne Enterprises certainly is." The mother's grip tightened. "Think of it this way: the war will end much faster and no more unnecessary lives need to be taken and destroyed," he reasoned.

"Tell that to the Longbottoms," Her mother replied through gritted teeth.

"Such casualties are to be expected in times of war. You of all people should know that, Marie. I can't speak for Bellatrix here, but for me, it's never been personal. I've always thought that you were a talented witch. Just misguided, perhaps." His head turned towards the woman. "Bellatrix, if you will do the honors, please."

The girl's eyes widened in horror as the woman sheathed the wand and pulled out a gun from her coat pocket. "Filthy muggles don't deserve the luxury of magical curses." She pulled the hammer back. And squeezed.

"NO!" Her mother screamed as she pulled out her wand and cast a wordless spell at the woman in one fluid motion. The man seemed startled at her outburst and flinched. The sound was deafening. The girl could only hear the thundering of her heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. She turned just in time to see her father fall backwards into a puddle, clutching his chest. In the corner of her eye, she saw a blinding streak of green light racing towards her. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for pain, death, or both. It never came. She cautiously opened her eyes and saw her mother's lifeless corpse laid out in front of her.

"Fuck! The bitch got me!" The woman screeched.

"What about the girl?" His eyes lingered on her mother's unmoving corpse.

"Forget the girl! I'm bleeding!" Pop. With that, they were gone. Vanished. The girl stood in silence for a moment.

Then, she heard her father's faint whisper. "Brook… Sweetheart…" She rushed over and bent over his body.

"DAD? DAD?" She sobbed, trying to stop the bleeding with her hands, but to no avail.

"I'm so sorry, love… I'm so sorry," he croaked out. Her hands shook. Her vision blurred. Words failed to form, dying in her throat. "I love you so, so much. You are meant for greatness, Brooklyn. Never forget that…"

Her howls and wails melted into the commotion of the night. The city blissfully unaware of a young girl who had lost her world.


	2. The Exchange Program

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this, I decided to write it in present tense, but in later chapters decided that I would stick with past tense. So, I apologize if the change in tenses is a bit jarring. Sorry!

"AQUA ERUCTO! REDUCTO! EXPULSO!" Brook's voice rings throughout the empty corridors of Wayne Manor. Her muscles burn and she can feel the toll the practice session is taking. The tank top is drenched in sweat. She pauses for a moment, stumbling backwards and eventually lying on the marble floor. She pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out a groan. She's definitely going to feel this tomorrow.

"Perhaps it would be wise to not exhaust yourself on such frequent basis, Master Brook." She turns her head sharply towards the voice, startled by the sudden intrusion. It's Julius. Brook sticks her tongue at her butler/caretaker and slowly raises herself up. He raises an eyebrow in response. "You are still a _growing_ witch, after all."

"Haven't you heard that practice makes perfect, Julius?" She asks while brushing the dust off of her shorts. Brook knows he's only concerned for her well-being, but what needs to be done simply doesn't allow for breaks. _The war isn't over yet. Not for me, anyways._

That was her life these days; between her grueling training sessions and company board meetings she rarely had time to just rest. Speaking of which, she really needed to discuss the expansion of the marketing department in the Argentinian branch with her advisors. Sales had plummeted by twelve percent there, which was unacceptable. No, Brooklyn Wayne doesn't fail. A Wayne shouldn't fail.

"Yes, but not at the expense of your health." Brook dries herself off with a fluffy white towel and quickly consumes an entire bottle of Gatorade. She sheathes her wand and heads for the door, past Julius. "Brooklyn." He says softly. She flinches at his use of her actual name and stops just before the door. "I'm only worried about your safety."

She sighs and turns her head around to look Julius in the eyes. "I know." She offers him a weak smile. "But I can't let up. Not now. Not with what my contacts are saying has been happening in Britain lately. It's bad enough that I'm stuck at school for most of the year. I need this, Julius. I… promise to give myself a little break here and there if it makes you feel better."

"I'll hold you to that promise, Master Brook." He smiles warmly. "Speaking of your school, Headmaster Jackson has requested to see you in his office this afternoon."

"Huh? Why?" She frowns. _Why would Jackson want to see me before the school year starts?_

"I'm afraid the note didn't specify a reason. Will you be using the Floo Network to Ilvermorny?"

"No," she says with a devilish smile, "I've been dying to test the new Lamborghini out."

* * *

Brook strides confidently towards the imposing oak doors and promptly knocks. "Come in, please." The voice beyond the doors says as the doors open. She walks into the room and is surprised to find her professors present as well, standing in a semi circle around the Headmaster. "Ah, Miss Wayne. Please take a seat." Headmaster Jackson motions towards the rather large leather chair across his desk. She obliges. "You've put us in a very interesting position, Miss Wayne. Your professors have informed me that not only did you manage to keep up in your seventh year classes as a fourth year, you've actually excelled by leaps and bounds! As far as I'm concerned, you've exceeded the curriculum Ilvermorny has to offer!"

"But sir, I still took some fourth year classes." She adds, not entirely sure where this conversation is headed.

"Yes you did, but since your major is the Defense Against the Dark Arts, you've completed the graduation requirements for your track and then some. We have no courses or any electives left for you for your major! So we, as a faculty, have come to the conclusion that your time and talent would be wasted by you spending the next remaining three years of your education here, where we currently have no more courses of interest left to offer. Sure you have some courses left outside of your track, but you're not interested those, are you, Miss Wayne?"

"No sir. I'm not." Brook replies meekly, while staring at her shoes and definitely not daring to look at her Magic History professor in the eye.

"Well then. It seems we have come to the right conclusion."

"Sir, how will I continue my education?"

"Ah, that's the million galleon question, isn't it? We, ourselves, struggled to answer that very question, but after many meetings, I believe we've come up with a feasible solution." The Headmaster leans forward slightly. "Have you ever heard of Hogwarts, Miss Wayne?"

* * *

_I'm going to Britain._ The news is almost too jarring to believe, but it's perfect. It presented her with the perfect opportunity to get even closer to her end goal.

As the Headmaster stated, Brook and fourteen other Ilvermorny students will spend a year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as exchange students.

_"It'll give you a different perspective on materials you've learned," Headmaster Jackson explains. "Hogwarts has some exceptional faculty members of their own, and some of the best wizards and witches in history have graduated from there. I'm sure you'll find much merit in your experiences in Britain. I almost forgot! My dear friend, Albus Dumbledore—Have you heard of him? Oh, you have! Fantastic! Anyways, Albus has been gracious enough to agree to this and has even arranged with their Ministry of Magic to let you all compete in the Triwizard Tournament! How exciting is that? Although, it would cease to be a tri-wizard tournament with four champions; it's now more like a quad-wizard tournament, if you will. But that's beside the point. The tournament is incredibly challenging, and if you are selected, Miss Wayne, which I have a feeling you might be, then it'd be a fantastic opportunity to test your skills. Not to mention incredibly rewarding. At the end of the year, if you and the others feel that Hogwarts fits your needs, you all have the option to stay there for the remainder of your education."_

_Brook opens her mouth to speak, but the Headmaster holds up a hand. "And before you ask, Miss Wayne, yes. Miss Thompson is one of the fourteen other students."_

_"Thank you, sir."_

Her phone's ringtone snaps her out of her thoughts. _Incoming call from: Alexis Thompson._ She clicks the accept call button on the steering wheel.

"HOLY SHIT. WE'RE GOING TO ENGLAND!" Brook winces as she hears her best friend screech.

"Fucking hell, Lex. Tone it down a notch, I almost crashed into a ditch because of that." Lex is her only and by default, best friend at Ilvermorny. Vigorous pursuit of her studies and her rather cold nature didn't lend themselves to many friends. Therefore, in her earlier years at Ilvermorny, she was always alone outside of her classes. Sure, her classmates constantly came to her for homework help, but apart from that, there was limited interaction between Brook and the rest of the students. She was fine with that. It just meant more time to focus on the things that mattered. She would need all the focus she could muster for what lie ahead.

So, her solitude became a norm and ultimately, a comfort. When other students tried to be friendly towards her, she just replied without any emotion except annoyance, only eager to retreat back into her comfort zone. And the others in response, kept their interactions solely to class work. But one girl persisted. Alexis Thompson, the daughter of No-Maj parents, kept striking at Brook's walls with exceptionally bad puns and cups of coffee to no avail. Until one day, Brook relented. They've been inseparable ever since.

"But it's England, Brook! Think of all the amazing things we'll get to experience! Big Ben, the gigantic ferris wheel, and don't even get me started on the accents!" Brook lets out a huge grin listening to her friend gush out the foreign country.

"Calm your horses, cowboy. The school's in Scotland."

"Ugh, whatever. But still, Britain! I'm browsing through my dad's Beatles record collection to get me in the British state of mind."

"Hey, you better start packing, we leave in three days."

"Yeah thanks, _mom._ We still on for coffee tomorrow morning?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." She smiles widely.

"Awesome! See you then!"

* * *

"Julius, I'm back!" Brook yells, her voice echoing through the grandiose halls of Wayne Manor. She spots Julius walking briskly down the stairs.

"How was the meeting, Master Brook?"

"It looks like I'm going to Hogwarts as an exchange student for a year. Maybe more."

"Well that's certainly unexpected. Although, I doubt you're upset about it. Any arrangements you'd like me to make ahead of time, Master Brook?"

"Yes. Get me an owl. I need to speak with Sirius Black."


	3. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooklyn meets with Sirius, and our heroes' journeys begin to intertwine...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have about three more chapters written so I'm currently in the process of doing a content dump. So, instead of weeks between updates, it's hours for you lot!

_Sirius,_

_There's been a change of plans—It seems that I'll be attending Hogwarts, allowing me to observe the situation firsthand. I'm staying at The Savoy in London for the next two days before leaving for Hogwarts. See me at the earliest convenience._

_-B. Wayne_

* * *

_Brook,_

_I'm inclined to think that this might be a blessing in disguise. I'll meet you at the café across the street on Saturday around 2:00._

_-Sirius_

* * *

Brook drummed her fingers against the table while aimlessly gazing out the café window. She was people watching. A rather heavy man with crimson cheeks was berating some poor employee on the phone. The drops of sweat clung to the side of his face and his shirt collar was already dipped in perspiration. His grip on his briefcase tightened and he began to spit as he emphasized every word. A young woman flinched and grimaced when a spit particle landed on her face, leading her dog away from the man. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her jacket and adjusted her sunglasses. Strutting confidently, she simply refused to look anywhere but forward. Near the woman, Brook found a small girl with pig-tailed hair tugging on her mother's coat sleeve and pointing to the store window. _Must be a toy store._ _I used to love playing with Hot Wheels when I was little. Too bad I kept flinging them across the room with magic by accident. Mom thought it amusing. Dad too, until I broke the vase from the Ming Dynasty. And cracked the aquarium glass. And tore a hole through his favorite classic Spanish guitar. Julius suggested plastering the entire room with archery targets._

"Cappuccino for Brooklyn?" Brook jumped in her chair and tore her eyes away from the window. A barista with a light beige apron and a long fiery braid looked at her expectantly, holding out a dainty cup.

"Uh yes. Yeah, that would be me." The barista carefully placed the cup on the table.

"Love your name by the way. Let me know if you need anything," she said, flashing a bright and radiant smile. Brook only nodded in response. Focusing her attention to the cappuccino, she noticed that the milk was used to draw a perfectly symmetric leaf. She leaned in and took a big whiff with her eyes closed. Her lips curled into a subtle smile.

"Looks like I'm interrupting a rather intimate moment with your coffee there," Sirius smiled, taking the seat directly across from Brook. He looked a lot healthier than the last time she saw him. Not to mention well groomed. His hair was no longer a mess of tangles and his chin had lost the scraggly beard.

"You have no idea." She chuckled and took a sip from the cup, savoring the sweet and bitter taste.

"So," Sirius started, leaning in. "Hogwarts."

"Yes, Hogwarts. It's a stroke of luck that this opportunity presented itself. Although, I have reason to believe that Jackson knows more about my intentions than he's letting on."

"Regardless, I think this is quite a development, don't you think?"

Brook nodded her head in agreement. "Oh, definitely. I get to watch the _legendary_ Harry Potter himself in person."

"Hey, easy there. It's my godson you're talking about."

She smirked in response. "All I'm saying is that the rumors have been largely exaggerated among the public. Anyways, tell me more about this tournament."

"Well, traditionally, it's held between three schools: Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and of course, Hogwarts. One champion from each school will be chosen and will be required by a magical contract to participate in three tasks, each more difficult and daunting than the last. Their performance after every task will be scored by a panel of judges and the champion with the highest combined score wins the tournament."

"So, like a magical Olympics, kind of."

"A magical what?"

"Nevermind." She took another sip from her cup. "I heard that it's been discontinued for centuries. Why the sudden interest?"

"Can't say. Not even people in the ministry know why. It's been very hush-hush over there lately."

"That's… concerning."

"I have to agree with you on that. I don't like it—the entire thing and its timing just feels off."

"Dumbledore seems okay with it happening."

"Yes, but it's entirely possible for him to go through with this only to gain more allies for what's coming," he said while brushing his long locks of hair aside.

"That's certainly plausible. I think it'll be an interesting year to say the least."

"I think that might be in the running for the understatement of the year."

"I can't believe I'm about to meet them. I feel like I've been waiting my whole life for this."

"I'm sure you'll manage, Brook. After all, you are Marie's daughter. Not to mention that I have you to thank for my freedom and my life. I'll have to return the favor someday."

"Don't mention it." She shrugged.

Sirius glanced at the clock on the wall. "I have to go." He stood up, his chair scraping the floorboards. "Take care of Harry please, Brook. He's all I've got left." He said, straightening out his jacket.

"I will."

"Are you leaving tomorrow afternoon?" She nodded in the affirmative. "Does Ilvermorny have transportation for you lot?"

She broke into a wide grin. "Oh yes. You have no idea."

* * *

"Ron, stop fidgeting. You're being unnecessarily anxious." Hermione chided her redheaded companion. The Hogwarts students were all gathered outside of the campus in anticipation of the schools' arrivals. There was an air of excitement in the crowd as many if not all of the students hadn't seen wizards and witches from the foreign schools before.

"Unnecessarily? This is Victor Krum we're talking about Hermione!" Ron protested, flailing his arms around for emphasis. He then climbed the base of a pillar to gain a better vantage point.

"I have to agree with Ron on this one, Hermione. He is the biggest quidditch star in the world after all." Harry added, taking his place on the platform next to Ron's.

"I get that, but I just don't see the need to act like a hyperactive fanatic, that's all." Hermione responded with her arms crossed. She turned her head as a hand rested on her shoulder.

"Let them be 'Mione. I'm actually looking forward to seeing him too, truthfully." Ginny said.

She still didn't understand what all the fuss was about. He's only a quidditch player, not Merlin himself. Despite this, however, Hermione was looking forward to having the other schools over at Hogwarts. She was a scholar above anything else, and she had to admit the prospect of learning about different wizarding cultures from around the world firsthand was extremely intriguing to say the least. Sure, she had read countless articles and books on the subject before, but nothing would come close to interacting with the diverse cultures herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a second year boy pointed at the sky and yelled, "Look! Over there!" The students craned their necks and squinted at the clouds to catch a glimmer of what the boy had seen. With astonishing speed, a carriage pulled by a dozen Abraxan horses shot into view and landed on the grass with surprising grace. The golden door opened and a towering woman stepped out. No one could believe their eyes; she was taller than Hagrid! Dumbledore rushed out to greet her, taking her hand and leading her to the castle entrance.

"Ah, Madame Maxime! So nice to see you, right this way."

"Blimey! How tall do you think she is, mate?" Ron whispered to Harry.

"She's almost twice my height, I bet."

Following Madame Maxime was a line of Beauxbaton students in their pale blue silk uniforms, their heads held high, an aura of grace and elegance radiating with each step they took.

Hermione suddenly punched Ron's arm, startling him from his daze. "Stop drooling, Ronald. It's creepy and barbaric."

"They're angels, Hermione. They've basically descended from heaven." He sighed longingly. Hermione only rolled her eyes in response.

"Excuse my idiot brother, 'Mione. Obviously, his brain hasn't made it past the ape stage." Ginny offered while also punching Ron's arm.

Durmstrang came next with its massive and imposing ship that emerged from underwater. Dumbledore ran to greet Professor Karkaroff as well. When Krum stepped out, the entire student body rushed to get a glimpse of him. The Hogwarts professors had to conjure protective shields to prevent someone like Ron from barreling over and tackling Krum. Not that Ron could tackle Krum's stocky build anyway.

"There's one more school coming, apparently." Hermione stated. Ginny turned to her in surprise.

"I thought it was called the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Tri-wizard as in three wizards?"

"Yes, but there is another school coming. Ilvermorny from America."

As soon as she said that, Ron cried out, "Bloody hell, what in Merlin's beard is _that?_ " His eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets.

"That, Ronald, is what muggles call a helicopter."

* * *

Brook sat on the edge of her bed, carefully inspecting her wand. She let out a big breath and held out her trembling right hand. She grasped it with her left hand in an attempt to stop the shaking. A knock was heard on the door.

"Hey Brook, mind if I come in?" Alexis called out from the hallway.

"No, not at all." She replied. Her best friend sauntered in, her fiery red curls bouncing with each step. There was a coffee cup in each hand.

"I got you a cup. We ran out of cappuccino, so I got you Americano with sugar." Brook graciously took the offering with her left hand, her right still trembling on her lap. Alexis didn't fail to catch her situation. She plopped down on the bed next to Brook and draped her arms over her shoulders, pulling her in a tight embrace. "Hey, I got your back, all right? You don't have to do everything on your own. I'm always here for you, got that?"

Brook reluctantly hugs Alexis back, clutching the back of her robe to stop her hand from shaking. "Five years and I still don't know why you do this."

Alexis pulls away and stares intently into Brook's grey eyes. "That's what friends are for, Brook. Friends care about one another. Now, drink your coffee." Brook obliged. "Better?" She looked down and noticed that her hand had ceased to shake.

"Better." She replied with a grin on her face.

"Good, Jackson says we'll be landing in two minutes. So, get ready."

* * *

Hermione sat in the Great Hall with her friends as the student body was buzzing about the afternoon's arrivals. Most of the students discussed either Krum's fantastic sophomore season in the professional leagues or how gorgeous the Beauxbatons students were. However, Hermione's mind kept circling back to the Ilvermorny arrival. Sure, she has seen helicopters before in London, but never in the wizarding world. An enchanted one designed to provide housing for fifteen students, no less! Not only that, the design near the rear propeller was highly intriguing as well: An encircled golden W overlapping an E. The logo was familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on which institution it belonged to.

She was still deep in her thoughts when Dumbledore called for quiet by clinking his spoon against his chalice. The Great Hall immediately fell into silence, eager to see what the Headmaster had in store next.

"As you know, Hogwarts is honored to continue the renewed tradition of the tri-wizard tournament this year. Normally, there would only be two schools: Durmstrang Institute and Beauxbatons Academy. But this year, the ministry has decided to allow an additional school to compete. So, without further ado, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The massive oak doors opened with a loud creak and streaks of light of all colors flew into the room, whizzing past students and exploding in a bright flurry of red, white, and blue. The students followed the fireworks and marched down the center aisle of the Great Hall, casting more firework spells as they went. The hall erupted into cheers at the display and the volume only rose when the girl in the front created a bald eagle made of flames that flew around the hall and ultimately exploded into a sparkling image of the American flag above the professors' table.

"I like them already!" yelled Fred and George in unison, above the deafening roar of the students.

Hermione was impressed with the show, but more specifically, the girl who had made the eagle. It must have been a personally modified Fiendfire. It was almost unheard of for a student to have the poise, power, and magical finesse to conjure and control a Fiendfire accurately. She couldn't have been a seventh year, judging by her facial features, so it made the feat even more extraordinary. When the applause finally died down, Dumbledore directed them to sit at the Gryffindor table. There was a spot reserved for them near the front end next to the seventh years. Hermione was disappointed that the American students were so far away. She decided that she would get to know them some other time.

The Beauxbaton Academy girls almost floated into the Great Hall with doves and butterflies following them. They winked at gawking and drooling boys (Ron included) who looked as if they could die happy now that a flock of stunning girls had acknowledged them to a degree. Ron was heartbroken that the girls were seated at the Ravenclaw table.

Finally, the Durmstrang boys displayed an overpowering performance of impeccable cadence and sheer raw strength. During their performance, it was the Hogwarts girls that now found themselves fawning over the foreign students. Hermione could only scoff at girls like Lavender Brown who ever practically undressing the Durmstrang students with their eyes.

Once everyone had been situated, Dumbledore addressed the student body once again. "The Tri-Wizard Tournament brings with it great honor and pride for the schools and its champions. However, it is not without its risks and dangers. That is why the ministry has instated an age requirement to put your name in the goblet for selection." He gestured to a man-sized goblet emitting blue flames that rose from the floor. "Applicants must be a fifth year or older in order to compete." Audible groans could be heard from all tables. Dumbledore called for silence by raising both his hands. "We have taken precautionary measures to ensure that this rule will not be broken. If any student under the age requirement tries to go against the ministry's rules by entering his or her name into the goblet, there will be consequences. The champions from each school will be announced two weeks from today. Enjoy the feast."

As soon as he finished, steaming plates of food from British, American, French, and Scandinavian cuisine appeared in front of every student, covering every available inch of table space. Brook jumped in her seat when the food seemingly appeared out of thin air. "Jeez, that scared the shit out of me!" She exclaimed. Alexis giggled next to her, trying to cover her mouth. "Oh, shut up. What if I had a heart attack?"

"Well, then coffee plants around the world would breathe a sigh of relief."

Brook rolled her eyes and flipped her off.

"Excusez-moi, can I have ze bouillabaisse?" Both girls turned to the source of the voice to find one of the Beauxbatons girls in her full radiant glory. The dazzling French girl looked at Alexis expectantly, pointing to the stew besides the redhead. Brook nudged her with her elbow.

"Lex, she's talking to you," she whispered.

"Huh? Oh yeah, sure. Definitely…" Alexis handed the stew to the Beauxbatons student, her cheeks threatening to match the color of her hair.

"Merci, mademoiselle. My name iz Fleur Delacour. Pleasure to meet you."

"Like—likewise. Alexis Thompson."

"Brooklyn Wayne." Brook introduced herself since Alexis struggled to get even her own name out of her mouth.

"Thank you for the bouillabaisse. I'll see you around, oui?" She turned to walk back to the Ravenclaw table, but not before throwing back a wink. Alexis sat there, frozen. Staring at where the blond once stood.

Brook leaned in. "Soooo, I didn't know you had a thing for French girls." She teased.

"Not. A. Word. More."


	4. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes get acquainted with each other before classes start...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italics when Fleur and Gabrielle are speaking indicate that they are communicating in French. Other than that, not much to say. Enjoy!

Fleur plopped down on the bench at the Ravenclaw table with an audible groan. She nearly just about slammed her pot of bouillabaisse on to the wood surface, making her sister, Gabrielle, jump in surprise.

_"Merlin, I'm such an idiot,"_ Fleur sighed as she blew away some strands of hair from her eyes.

_"Ah, she has become self-aware."_ Gabrielle grinned, poking at Fleur's arm while the older Delacour sister shot daggers with her eyes. _"What's wrong? Let me guess, does it have anything to do with the redhead you've been staring at the entire dinner?"_

Fleur slapped her sister's hand away. _"I wasn't staring, Gabrielle. But yes. I suppose it has **everything** to do with the redhead." _ She buried her head in her arms, muffling the last few words.

_"So, does this redhead have a name?"_ said Gabrielle, leaning in closer to her sister's now armadillo-like form.

_"Alexis. Her name is Alexis."_

_"Oh, that's a pretty name. But I don't get it; you never get this flustered when talking to someone. You usually just end up making the other person a wreck, stuttering and whatnot."_ She said, waving a french fry around before popping it into her mouth. _"Unless—"_ The french fry fell out of her mouth as she gasped. _"No way. Holy shit, Fleur! Are you serious? Is this for real?"_ Gabrielle vigorously shook her sister's shoulders. She only received a groan in response. _"Ah, this is so exciting, Fleur! Grandmother and mother would be so proud! Oh, I bet they can't wait to hear about this; I'm going to fetch myself an owl as soon as dinner's over. So, did she say yes? Are you guys going to get married now? Ooh! Can I be your maid of honor, Fleur? Pretty please?"_ She stopped suddenly when her sister popped up and held her face in both hands.

_"Gabrielle, calm down! You're making a scene! And no, no, and maybe if you're nice."_

_"So… you're not getting married."_

_"No, of course not; I barely even know her. I just introduced myself back there."_ Gabrielle crossed her arms.

_"Then why are you this upset?"_

_"Because I made a complete mess of it! I was supposed to woo her off her feet like a proper Delacour, but I just ended up asking her for the damned bouillabaisse!"_ She pointed towards the offending dish. _"Merlin, I've never felt like this before; She just makes me so nervous, and I can't even think straight when she's in front of me."_

_"Awww, Fleur has a crush! I'm sure you'll be just fine, Fleur. She'd be blind to not fall head over heels for you. You are a Delacour, after all. It'll all work out eventually."_

Fleur let out another sigh. _"Merlin, I hope so."_

* * *

"Hey, when you're done ogling the French exchange student can we go to the library?" Brook asked, cup of coffee in hand.

"Okay, first of all, I'm not _ogling_ her," Alexis countered. "I'm just uh, appreciating her beauty. You know, like an art exhibit."

"Is there a difference?" Brook raised her eyebrow, scoffing.

"Of course there is! One sounds a whole lot less creepy than the other."

"And second of all?"

"Oh yeah, second of all, why the library?"

"Research. I'd like to know more about the place we'll be living in for the next year or so. I'm sure they have a blueprint or something useful in there."

Alexis rolled her eyes and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Brook, classes haven't even started yet and you already want to go into full researcher mode." She stood up and made her way out of the Great Hall with Brook closely in tow. "You're such a nerd. Why do I even hang out with you?"

"Because I know your coffee order by heart," Brook answered, a wide grin plastered on her face. "Plus, you'd lose a tutor who works her ass off to make sure you get good grades. Oh, and I've been told that I'm extremely charming by many. Shall I go on?"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it: Brooklyn Wayne is amazing."

"What can I say?"

"Whatever, I think we're close. Keep up, Shortstack,"

"You know I'm only an inch shorter than you, right?" Brook replied, quickening her pace to catch up. The two continued with brisk strides in comfortable silence, not counting the clicks of their shoes against the stone flooring. Alexis then suddenly stopped in her tracks and her hand shot out to grab Brook's arm. "Ah! What the hell, Lex?" She swung her free arm around in an effort to regain her balance.

"Wait. I've seen this painting before. Like two minutes ago." She said, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Are you trying to say that we're lost?"

"Yeah. We're lost."

"Shit. Lost on the way to find a map of the place. How fucking ironic." Brook ran her fingers through her raven black locks. "So what now? Just about everyone is probably still in the Great Hall. I can't believe we managed to get ourselves lost in what, six or seven minutes? God, that must be a record."

"Do you need any help?" A crystal clear voice rang out through the hallway. The duo turned their heads to find a young Gryffindor making her way towards them. Brook instantly recognized who it was. _Hermione Jean Granger: The brightest witch of her age._

Her chocolate curly hair was unmistakable. Her precise posture as she walked. And with each step, an air of confidence that was so… _Hermione Granger_. Exactly how Brook imagined her to be. So, maybe her files and homework hadn't failed her after all.

"Actually, yes. Could you show us where the library might be?" Brook asked.

"Of course, I was just heading there myself. Follow me." The two Americans trailed slightly behind their new guide. "Hogwarts can be confusing at times, especially for someone who hasn't been here before. But I'm sure you two will get used to it in no time." She added before stopping next to two large oak doors that nearly stretched to the ceiling. "And here we are. Normally the doors are open all day, but it looks like Madam Pince hasn't gotten back from the feast." Brook eyed the doors and took a step forward. "Oh, the doors are extremely heavy, so—" With one quick flick of the wrist, the doors creaked open, revealing the library that they held inside. "Or you could do that." Hermione smiled.

"Thanks for the help." Brook said curtly with a nod and promptly walked deeper into the library.

Hermione turned to the redhead next to her. "Well, that was rather abrupt."

Alexis sighed with apologetic eyes. "Sorry, she tends to do that sometimes. Actually, pretty often. But really, thanks for your help. I think we would have been lost for forever if you hadn't come to our rescue."

"It's no problem. I don't believe I ever got your name."

"Alexis Thompson," She stuck out her hand, which Hermione gladly shook.

"Hermione Granger, it's a pleasure to meet you, Alexis."

"Likewise. And that," she pointed at Brook who was already carrying five books towards one of the tables. "is Brooklyn Wayne. Or Brook for short."

"Like the city?"

"Like the city." Alexis affirmed.

"I couldn't help but notice that the Ilvermorny students flew in by helicopter. Isn't that an odd choice of transportation for a wizarding school?" Hermione asked. The question burned in her mind for the entire day ever since the students arrived.

"Well, the American wizarding world doesn't normally use helicopters, but ours in particular was donated by a generous benefactor and our faculty enchanted it for lodging. It wouldn't be used unless for extended trips like this."

"I see. And the generous benefactor is Wayne Enterprises, I assume?" She asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Yup. Courtesy of Miss Brooklyn Wayne over there." The pile had now grown by four more books. She checked her watch. Nine thirty. "Hey, Brook?" She called out. Brook's head perked up from flipping through pages. "I'm going to get some shut-eye, you good here?" Brook responded with a thumbs-up. Alexis turned to Hermione. "Sorry for cutting this short, but I have an early class tomorrow."

"Oh no worries. Just go back the way we came and take two lefts and a right and then you'll see the front entrance."

"Awesome. Thanks again, Hermione. It was nice meeting you." Alexis waved as she walked through the doors. "See you around!" Hermione waved back. Once the redhead disappeared down the hallway, Hermione turned her attention to Brook who was furiously sketching and scribbling something on parchment. Hermione cautiously made her way to the table and peered over Brook's shoulder.

"Is that the Hogwarts floor plan?" Brook jumped and dropped her quill on the floor.

"Fucking shit! You scared the crap out of me!" Brook was breathing heavily.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, but it is the Hogwarts floor plan that you're sketching, is it not?"

"Yes, it is." She was still catching her breath. "Fuck me, I almost had a heart attack."

"Sorry. Again. But if you wanted to know the layout of the castle, I'd be more than happy to give a quick tour if you'd like." Hermione offered.

Brook thought about it for a moment. "I think I'd like that," she replied, a tiny sliver of a smile forming on her face. "Brooklyn Wayne." She offered her hand.

"Hermione Granger." The Gryffindor gladly took it.

* * *

"So, over to the right is the potions classroom." Hermione explained. They had gone through Brook's schedule, visiting each classroom in order. As she checked through Brook's schedule she noticed that they shared both History of Magic and the new Defense Against the Dark Arts class that combined both 4th years and 5th years. With all the turmoil the Defense Against the Dark Arts post had brought in the last few years, it didn't surprise Hermione that this year ushered in yet another change in class format. In all honesty she had never heard of Professor Moody, but his seemingly autonomous glass eye gave her all the proof that she needed to conclude that this year's class would not be the "normal" class that she had been hoping for. It wasn't that she particularly disliked the adventures that usually followed the Dark Arts professors, not at all. In fact, she sometimes found them exhilarating to an extent. But she was concerned for the safety of her friends and herself. Mostly Harry. And with the reemergence of the Death Eaters during the Quidditch World Cup, the threat of danger loomed larger than ever before.

"The class itself is taught by Professor Snape, who is also the head of the Slytherin House." Hermione continued. "The Slytherin House members' quarters are in the dungeon, which most people find unnerving, but I, for one, don't mind it too much. While it might be a bit creepy, its history and the Hogwarts history in general are just amazing and fascinating. I mean the castle itself is centuries old! Think of all the brilliant minds and stories that walked through these very halls!" She made a grand sweeping gesture with both of her arms, and quickly placed them by her sides. "Sorry, I tend to get carried away with this type of stuff."

Brook faintly smiled in response. "No, you're fine. I can't say that I share your enthusiasm for history though. I've never been much of a history person." She grimaced as she thought back to those long, grueling lectures about the Salem Witch Trials. "I… actually almost failed History of Magic at Ilvermorny because I didn't go to half of the lectures last year. That's why I'm taking the class with your year. It's my headmaster's sick idea of punishment by making me retake a class that he knows I hate." Hermione's face fell a little as Brook used hate to describe one of her favorite classes. Brook noticed. "Not that there's anything wrong with the material! Or liking it!" She added quickly. "It was probably the way the teacher conveyed the information." She ran her fingers through her hair while trying to think of some remedy.

"I understand; it's not for everybody. Lord knows I've tried to get Harry and Ron interested the subject for years."

"Potter, right?"

"Yes, it turns out that teenage boys are more keen to discuss the latest Quidditch game than the great wizards of the Middle Ages, even if he is the Boy Who Lived." Hermione slightly tiled her head to the side, perplexed. "I didn't realize that Americans knew about Harry."

"Oh don't underestimate how fast word travels across the pond, Miss Granger." Brook remarked, a trace of a knowing smile on her face.

"Please, call me Hermione. I'm not nearly old enough to be called Miss Granger by someone about my age."

"Hermione it is then."

"Does that mean that people in America know about me then, too?"

"Not as much as Harry, but some will recognize your name if it's mentioned in the same context as him."

"Oh, I see." Hermione trailed off, falling silent for a few steps.

"Something bothering you?"

"No, it's just that," Hermione chose her words carefully. "It's an odd feeling: knowing that people in another continent know of my friends and I and what we've done for the past few years."

"Well, you can't expect to achieve what you have at your age and not expect to be in the limelight. You are the 'Brightest Witch of Her Age' after all." Hermione blushed furiously at the mention of her unofficial title.

"I didn't actually—"

"Pick that nickname? Yeah, I know. I can tell that you're not as conceited to go that far despite what the press has the folks believe."

"It's that Rita Skeeter, isn't it? What an awful woman! Hasn't she got anything better to do than write hit pieces on students?"

"Hermione, you do realize that this comes with the territory of being one of the brightest young witches Britain has seen in decades?" Hermione took a sudden interest in her shoes. "Not to mention you're the best friend of Harry Potter."

"What about you?" Hermione looked straight into Brook's grey eyes.

"What about me?"

"You must have experience being in the public eye. In case you forgot, you are the head of Wayne Enterprises."

"It was the helicopter, wasn't it? I keep forgetting to take the logo off."

"I mean never mind the brightest witch of her age, you run a multi-billion dollar business empire, for goodness sake! How do you manage it?"

"I'm not as impressive as you make me seem. I have some of the most experienced and competent advisors around me to guide me in many areas." Brook shrugged. "To suggest that I'm the reason for the company's success is inaccurate. I'm lucky to have such a great team."

"You know, for one of the richest people on the planet, I expected you to be much less humble than you are."

"I get that. I'm just giving credit where credit's due." The two walked in silence until they reached the end of the hallway near the base of the flight of stairs that lead to the Gryffindor dorms. During the walk, Hermione couldn't help but look at the mysterious American in a new light. Despite her distant exterior, she could see cracks of warmth in the fifth year. Given her social standing and immense wealth, Hermione certainly didn't expect her to be, well, normal. In all honesty, she was fully prepared for Brook to be a gigantic, self-entitled asshole. She was pleasantly surprised by how well the night had gone, to say the least.

"Well, this is where the tour ends, I suppose. The Gryffindor dorms and commons are just up the stairs here." She motioned at the limestone set of stairs. "And if you take the hallway to the left and continue straight you can find where your helicopter is parked. I hope you found this a little helpful."

"Oh yes, undoubtedly. Now I actually have a clue of where the hell I'm going tomorrow. So, thank you."

"No problem." Hermione flashed Brook a brilliantly warm smile. "See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow." The corner of her mouth curled upwards ever so slightly.


	5. First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. I actually had this almost done about a month and a half ago, but I broke my nose and got a nasty concussion while playing baseball. So I was out of commission for a while. I'm still recovering from the concussion so bear with me here, but just know that I'm not neglecting this story. From now on, you can expect an update every two weeks or so. As always, let me know what you think! -WR

Brook had a love hate relationship with mornings. Waking up earlier meant that she could get more done before the day truly started. But doing so was a pain in the ass. It usually took five different alarms for Brook to actually wake up because she just turns them off and goes back to sleep, grumbling about _five more minutes_. However, on the first day of school, she had something far more effective than an alarm clock.

"Brook, I swear to God if you don't get up in the next five seconds, I'm going to spill water on your face." Brook only groaned in response, covering up her ears with her blanket. "Five…four…three…two…" One never came. Instead, her blanket was snatched out of her grasp. As she turned her head towards the source of the intrusion, she was greeted by a splash of water. Brook shot up, coughing violently.

"Lex, what the fuck!" Alexis immediately rushed to her side and patted her back.

"Sorry! You weren't waking up, and you were going to miss breakfast. And you love breakfast."

"Doesn't mean that you should assault me with water!" Another cough.

"I did try to wake you up for like 30 minutes before that." Alexis reasoned. Brook shrugged her best friend's arm off and headed to the bathroom to get herself a towel. "Ok, let's be real. Would you have woken up if it weren't for the water?" Alexis called after her. Brook didn't reply.

After an internal debate, Brook exited the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, glaring at Alexis. "Yes, of course."

"Brook."

"Eventually."

"Brooklyn."

"OK, fine. I wouldn't have woken up if it wasn't for your water park in bed." She relented. "It still doesn't take away from the fact that I'm mad at you." With that, Alexis put on a bright, wide smile and nearly skipped over to Brook, carrying a steming mug in her hands.

"Would it help if I told you that I got you a fresh cup of coffee?"

Brook gladly accepted the mug and sighed. "You know one of these days, coffee isn't going to solve everything."

"But…?"

"Today isn't that day. Come on, let's go to breakfast, I'm starving."

* * *

Fleur began to stir in her bed when see heard a series of taps on her window. She stretched and rubbed her eyes, trying to get the morning out of her system. Who would write her at this early in the morning? Fleur opened her window, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her snowy owl held an envelope in its beak.

_"You deserve some rest. I don't think I'm going to write an immediate response to anything."_ The owl flew away from the windowsill and into the rare sunny sky of Scotland. Fleur opened the envelope and sat down on her bed. The letter read:

_My dearest Fleur,_

_Your grandmother and I are so proud of you! We felt that something was different in the air last night, but we didn't expect it to be this momentous! And yes, we know. Are you at all surprised that we knew before you even wrote us? Never underestimate a Delacour, Fleur._

_And don't worry too much about not writing us; we're sure you had a very busy day trying to get accommodated to your new surroundings. Just know that we are so happy for you and your mate. We do want to see a photo of her at the earliest convenience (preferably both of you in the same picture!)._

_I know that all this may seem like it's all happening too fast, but I want you to understand that it's completely fine to do it your own way and at your own pace. You may be a Delacour but you're also my daughter. I can't stand to see you be uncomfortable or ill prepared for an event that quite literally will change your and your mate's lives forever. With that said, it's perfectly understandable if you want to take your time. Easing your mate into all this may be wise—considering she's not a veela. No matter what happens, Fleur, I just wish that you be the brave and confident girl you have always been. You are going to do amazing. We are so proud of you, Fleur. Don't hesitate to write us with more questions (and pictures)!_

_Love,_

_Your Mother_

_P.S. Please send Gabrielle our regards! Make sure she doesn't get into any trouble!_

Fleur clutched the letter close to her chest and let the tears fall. They weren't tears of despair—they were of relief. Finally. Almost all veela girls dream about meeting their mate and courting him or her. The one.

But not Fleur. While girls her age talked incessantly about their fantasies of falling in love, Fleur spent the time worrying. She wasn't just any veela; she was a Delacour. The weight the name carried was almost overbearing to Fleur. The centuries of prestige and tradition to hold up, outside perception and expectations of her family, and additional pressure that she created for herself.

So, she was terrified. A moment a veela meets her mate can only be described as the single most important moment of her life. In a single glance, a single look, a single touch, two lives are altered irreparably. They are forever intertwined. It occurred in every veela's life. It is a fundamental essence to their being. Fleur couldn't imagine what would happen if she were to fail. She shrouded herself in a cloud of self-doubt and fear, afraid of what her family would think of her if the unthinkable did happen. Apart from the physical ramifications (Fleur's death from, ironically, a broken heart), the social effects would be immense. The family legacy would be ruined. The Delacour name, with all its prestige, would be tarnished. To cope, she relied on a steady dose of temporary boyfriends and girlfriends. Getting them to like her was no trouble, she is a veela after all. There was no pressure, as she knew that none of them were _the one._ She would know when the right person came around as her grandmother told her. Her revolving door of companions gave her solace. No matter what she did, no matter what mistakes she made, it wouldn't matter. Over time, she started to push the thought of her mate to the back of her mind. Ever present, but lurking. She'd cross that bridge when she gets there.

But now, it was real. It was far too real. No amount of advice from her mother and grandmother truly prepared her for the moment she laid her eyes on Alexis. It was during the middle of the Beauxbaton entrance ceremony. By happenstance, Fleur turned her head towards the Gryffindor table and made eye contact with the redhead. She was completely caught off guard by the green orbs that stared back at her. Fleur nearly tripped on her own feet mid-stride. She had to force herself to stare straight ahead to avoid ruining the procession, ignoring the dozens of hormonal teenagers who were practically drooling. Fleur desperately tried to push the image of the girl to the back of her mind, instead focusing on making sure that her steps were in sync with the other girls. Despite her efforts, the redhead was seared into her mental image.

It was only when the Beauxbatons students were seated at the Ravenclaw table that Fleur allowed herself to let out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. Her heart pounded with such ferocity that it was starting to hurt. She wasn't quite sure of her surroundings even though she was vaguely aware that she was sharing pleasantries with the Ravenclaw students. Fleur put on her best smile while introducing herself to the fumbling seventh year boys and entertained them for a short while, but her interests lied somewhere else. More specifically, near the end of the Gryffindor table. The ceremony continued on with the Durmstrang boys and Dumbledore's speech, but they faded to background noise.

She wasn't _exactly_ staring, but one might say that her eyes were lingering far longer than normal on the redhead across the Great Hall.

OK, fine, she was staring.

But admitting that fact wasn't going to stop her. The more she stared, the more she noticed about the girl. How the candlelight shined through her strawberry locks. How her bangs fall softly on her face but just enough to not cover her eyes. How her freckled nose scrunched ever so slightly as she smiled at something her friend had said.

_Merde. That smile is enough to bring any man or woman to their knees._ It just radiates warmth to all corners of the room, making Fleur feel something that she was deathly afraid to feel all those years. She should have been terrified. This exact moment was what she had warned herself against for years. She should have been afraid of rejection, of failure, of consequence. But she felt none of that. There was something about the girl that made Fleur feel so… safe. So warm. As if with that dazzling smile she wholeheartedly told the entire world that it's going to be okay. She was _the one._

Fleur suddenly strode over to the Gryffindor table with a determined look on her face, ignoring a curious glare from her little sister. She could feel dozens of eyes fixed on her as she made her way across the Great Hall. It was almost as if she had a black hole-like gravitational pull. As she neared the two friends, Fleur put on her best, most charming smile.

"Excusez-moi, can I have ze bouillabaisse?" _Wait. What? The bouillabaisse?_

The duo turned around and seemed taken aback by the Fleur's unprompted appearance. The redhead was slow to respond, perhaps in shock, maybe even confused. Her friend had to explain to her that another human being was talking to her and was expecting a response. She stumbled her way through a reply and meekly handed Fleur the dish she pointed to. _Merlin, she's even cuter when she is flustered._

"Merci, mademoiselle. My name iz Fleur Delacour. Pleasure to meet you."

"Like—likewise. Alexis Thompson."

_Alexis._

The name echoed through her mind. She grinned from ear to ear.

_Alexis._

It was music to Fleur's ears.

* * *

Brook was late. Not that is was out of the ordinary for her to be unpunctual, but on the first day school? For the first class of the day? That was setting the bar pretty low. So now, she was running. Maybe sprinting. It was a peculiar sight: a girl with a messy high bun sprinting with a book in one hand, croissants in the other, and a chocolate chip muffin held tightly between her teeth. Not to mention the open bag slung across her shoulder with stacks of paper threatening to spill out at any moment.

She was hoping for a more subtle entrance, but her momentum carried her forward with some considerable force, causing her to burst through the classroom door. About thirty heads snapped towards Brook, obviously startled. _Shit. Ok maybe not as subtle as I thought._ Thankfully, Professor Moody was nowhere to be seen, so technically, she wasn't late. Brook scanned the classroom for any empty seats and more specifically, the redhead ball of sunshine. She finally found her near the bookshelves that lined the right side wall of the classroom. However, her usual seat next to Alexis was taken by an exchange student from Beauxbatons. Alexis mouthed a silent apology to her friend before shrugging and gesturing to her right, looking as flustered as she was the day before during the welcome feast.

Brook then continued her search for an empty seat, regretting the time she took to grab extra pastries on the way out from breakfast. Grey eyes met hazel and Hermione was motioning to Brook to take the open seat next to her. Brook slumped into the chair, setting her pastries down next to her books. Her hand immediately reached for her muffin in her mouth so that she could actually speak without looking and sounding like a complete idiot.

"Good morning, Brooklyn. Did you not eat breakfast?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow at the pile of pastries that formed on the corner of Brook's side of the desk.

"Morning. I woke up late," she explained.

The office door swung open suddenly and the students all jumped in surprise. Professor Moody's metal foot clanked with every step he took on the stone steps. Some of the Slytherin boys in the back whispered amongst themselves, wondering how the wizard lost this leg. When he reached the floor, he began frantically writing on the chalkboard, muttering something unintelligible. The words "Unforgivable Curses" were underlined for emphasis.

"Which of you can tell me what the three Unforgivable Curses are?" He asked gruffly. Hermione raised her hand almost instantly. "Yes, you there. Miss Granger."

"The three Unforgivable Curses are the Imperius Curse, Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse."

"Very good, Miss Granger. And why are those curses unforgivable?"

"The use of any of the curses are deemed so heinous that the wizard or witch that casts it will—"

"Earn themselves a one way ticket to _Azkaban."_ He spit out the last word, writing it on the chalkboard as well with harrowing speed, his tongue flicking almost snake-like. "Yes, correct, Miss Granger. Well done."

"Thank you sir."

"Now, the Ministry believes that young witches and wizards such as yourselves are too young to be learning these curses. I think different." Murmurs broke out among the students. "It is my belief that you should be know what these curses do." He pointed at a sliver locked boy in the back. "You there. Mister Malfoy, what is the name of this course?"

Brook gripped her quill tightly, strangling it in her hold. Her fingertips turn white from the sheer amount of pressure she was putting on the writing utensil. "Uh, Defense Against the Dark Arts?" The boy replied. _So, it is him._

"Exactly!" Professor Moody banged his fist on his desk, doing nothing to assuage the tension that now permeated through the class. "How will you hope to _defend_ against the dark arts if you are not exposed to it, hmm? You need to know what you're up against! It is my job to prepare you all. And what better way to prepare you for the dark arts than with some of the darkest of them all?" Hermione's brows frowned in consternation, wondering what the professor had in store as he pulled out a caged spider from his trunk. "Longbottom! Come up to the front!" He barked and beckoned the hunched boy over. He unsurely shuffled his way to the front of the class, standing face to face with the professor, their bodies only separated by a desk. "Now, tell me one of the curses."

The boy froze. After a few beats of silence, he managed to stutter out, "The—the Imp—Imperius Curse, sir." Professor Moody quickly pulled his wand out from his pocket and released the spider.

"Take a step back, Longbottom." The boy staggered backwards tentatively. "Imperio!" A yellow green mist emitted from Professor Moody's wand, enveloping the spider. There was a collective gasp of surprise as the professor forced the spider to latch itself onto chalkboard. "The Imperius Curse will leave the victim completely at the mercy of the caster. You can make the victim do just about anything. And I mean _anything._ " With a flick of his wand, the professor made the spider return to its cage, even managing to lock itself in somehow. "Now the next one, Longbottom." Brook could see the boy practically shaking in his shoes. If she could squeeze the quill any harder, she would have snapped it in half. She let out a growl and huffed. Hermione gave her a worried look as if to ask about her well-being.

"The Cruciatus Curse, sir." The boy squeaked out, taking a more serious interest in his shoelaces, not daring to look the professor in the eyes. Well, eye.

The professor nodded, pleased by the answer even though a majority of the class couldn't hear it. "Crucio!" A sickening screech from the spider filled the room. Brook wasn't even aware that spiders could produce a sound so horrifying. Or any sound for that matter. All of the students doubled over in pain with palms pressed tightly over their ears. And the boy was noticeably pale with tears threatening to spill over. But the spider definitely had it the worst. Its legs were curled in on itself, sporadically extending into the air and grabbing nothing. Its body wiggled fervently, desperately wishing for death's sweet release.

"Professor! Stop! I think that's enough!" Hermione pleaded. Thankfully, a burst of green light ended the suffering.

"Avada Kedavra!" Professor Moody yelled out. Silence fell over the room as students tried to regain their bearings. "That's enough for today. Class dismissed." Students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Ilvermorny alike hurried to file out of the room, eager to get as far away from the class as possible. Brook sat still in her chair for a moment, almost stunned from the events that just unfolded. Hermione reached out and laid her hand on Brook's shoulder.

"Hey, Brooklyn. Are you all right?" Brook flinched, jumping in her seat. The Gryffindor quickly withdrew her hand when she noticed Brook's obvious discomfort. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," she explained.

"No, I'm good." Shaking her head to pull herself out of stupor. She absentmindedly began stuffing her belongings into her bag, her fingers on her right hand twitching ever so slightly as she moved. "I need to get to my next class," she murmured.

"History of Magic, right?" Brook merely grunted in the affirmative. "I can walk with you, if you'd like. If I remember correctly, I do have that class next as well."

"Sure."

"Hey, Brook. Sorry about the seat, she just sat right there and wouldn't take no for answer." Alexis popped in.

"Sure."

The trio made their way out of the classroom and down the hallway with Hermione talking animatedly. "I just cannot believe he just did that!" She exclaimed. "Teaching Unforgivable Curses on the first day of classes, never mind to fourth and fifth years! Poor Neville, he looked so scared up there."

Near the foot of the stairs, Alexis suddenly stopped short. "Ah shoot! I left my book in the classroom." She said, snapping her fingers in frustration. "I'll see you guys in class?"

"Do you know the way to class, Alexis?"

"Yeah, just up the stairs, to the right, and down the hallway. I'll be fine."

"All right then." As Hermione and Brook made their way up the stairs, the lioness continued on her rant about the carelessness of the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Brook only chimed in with noises that affirmed she was listening. Her focus was mostly on the strap of her bag she was desperately clutching onto.

When they turned the corner, Hermione bumped into a Slytherin boy, his silver hair flying in all directions as he tried to regain his balance. Cursing, he rubbed his forehead, trying to soothe the pain. Equally, Hermione yelped out in surprise and pain.

"Watch where you're going, _Mudblood._ " He spat. Brook tensed up at the sound of the derogatory word.

"Shut up, Malfoy. You are also at fault here."

"Be careful what you say, _Mudblood._ You just might regret it."

"What the fuck did you just call her?" Brook snarled at Malfoy. Hermione jerked her head towards Brook, caught off guard by her sudden outburst.

"Oh, are you making friends now, Granger?" Malfoy sneered. He directed his eyes to Brook. "I called her a _filthy Mudblood_ like the abomination she is. Do you have a problem with that?" He snorted. Hermione was about to intervene with some peacemaking words, never being the one to incite unnecessary conflict. But the words never left her mouth as Brook grabbed Draco's collar and violently pinned him against the stone wall. Draco took in a huge breath, gasping for air, clearly unprepared for such an assault. Brook then proceeded to pull out her wand with her free hand and held it threateningly against Draco's neck.

"Does this answer your question, you prick?" She was practically growling now.

"My father will hear about this," he managed to choke out.

"Go on, run off to your daddy and tell him all about it. I fucking dare you. You think your pathetic family scares me, Malfoy?" Brook's eyes darkened to a midnight black. Hermione could only watch, her feet betraying her brain, which was yelling at her feet and arms to do something. Anything. "Do you even know who I am? I have more wealth and power than you've ever imagined in my left fucking toe. I could end your entire family with the snap of my fingers, you chicken shit. Tread very carefully. _Never_ talk to her like that again. Do I make myself clear?" When Malfoy didn't respond, Brook pressed even harder with her wand. "I can't fucking hear you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes. Crystal." Draco struggled to get the words out his mouth. Brook released her grip on the Slytherin and watched him scamper away down the stairs, silently cursing. When he was out of eyesight, Brook collapsed against the wall, her cheeks pale, her lungs desperately gulping for air. She brought her legs to her chest instinctively, as if to protect herself from something unforeseen.

Hermione broke out of her short paralysis and rushed over to her side. There was a flurry of footsteps and the redhead was kneeling in front of her best friend. "Oh my god, what happened?" Alexis turned to Hermione for an explanation. Meanwhile, Brook's breaths quickened. Her right hand was quivering violently.

"She got in a fight because of me." Hermione offered meekly, not knowing what to do in the situation.

"I was barely gone for a minute!" She turned her attention back to Brook. "Hey, Brook? Brook, look at me." She said gently. Grey eyes met green. "I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you do that?" Brook's breathing changed into an erratic pattern of long and short breaths as she struggled to regain control of her respiratory system. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. "Hey, you're doing good, Brook. Just keep looking at me and keep taking those deep breaths. In and out. In and out." Alexis dramatically breathed in through her nose and out with her mouth, hoping to make the maneuver a bit easier for Brook as she mimicked her breathing. "That's it. Just keep doing that." She turned her head towards Hermione. "Where's the nurse's office?"

"On the first floor, I can show you where."

"Quickly." Back to Brook. Her breathing was beginning to slow down, but her shaking hand had yet to improve. "Hey Brook? We're going to take you to the nurse's office, is that okay?" Brook could only slightly nod in the affirmative. "Hermione, help me lift her up." The three slowly and gently made their way to the infirmary, greeted by Madam Pomfrey who was motioning the girls to place Brook on one of the open beds.

"Oh dear. It looks like she is having quite the panic attack here. Nothing some calming potion can't fix." She held a vial near Brook's lips. "Drink up dear. It'll make you feel better." Brook obliged, taking small sips of the potion. Within seconds, her breathing normalized and her right hand seized to shake. Soon after, she drifted off into a deep slumber. Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I'm going to go back upstairs and put her stuff back in her room. I'll be right back." Alexis said before rushing out the door. Hermione's eyes fell on Brooklyn, relieved to see her cheeks regain their color and her chest rising and falling with each breath. There was so much she didn't know about this girl. They had only first met the day before, after all. Brooklyn had only known her for a day and yet she confronted Malfoy on her behalf. Protected her and threatened Malfoy with extreme ferocity. The way her eyes tore through Malfoy's… Just recalling them made Hermione shudder.

Why did Malfoy's pure blood supremacist slurs make her spring into action like that? So quickly, without any hesitation. Again, Hermione and Brooklyn were only acquaintances at this point. It was almost jarring to see so many different sides of her in such a short time span. She saw glimpses of her distant nature the night before and the coldness when she strode into class. Then her fury. Then her vulnerability. There were many layers to the young Wayne. Hermione was determined to see all of them. Despite her icy shell, there was something else in the heiress. Something…caring. Something wonderful. She just had to make the effort to find out.

"Hermione, dear. Shouldn't you be in class?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

She shook her head. "No, ma'am. I'll be fine." She pulled up a chair and held Brooklyn's hand, thankful that she was getting better. No class in Hogwarts could make her leave her seat. Her academics could wait. She already knew the curriculum by heart now anyways.


	6. The Champions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My series of unfortunate events continue. I had approximately 4,500 words written out last week (super ahead of schedule!), so I was feeling pretty good about myself heading into my vacation to San Francisco. However, the world had other plans as my rental car was broken into and the robbers stole my backpack and laptop. So, here I am, rewriting this chapter with a brand new laptop I had to shell out money for. I'm not entirely too happy with this chapter because I had to rewrite it, making me forget certain beats in certain scenes. Hopefully the next chapter would be more forgiving. As always, reviews are appreciated! See you next week (if all goes to plan)! -WR
> 
> Disclaimer: Still don't own HP

The next morning, the Great Hall was buzzing with rumors regarding the young heiress and Draco Malfoy.

"Mate, did you hear that one of the Ilvermorny girls tore Malfoy a new one?"

"Serves him right, that prat. Long overdue if you ask me."

* * *

"A Ravenclaw told me that they were fighting about Granger."

" _Granger?_ What does she want with _her?_ I mean, Draco getting involved, that I can understand, but an exchange student?"

"Beats me. I'm just surprised that someone actually gives a damn about Granger apart from Potter and Weasley."

* * *

"So, who's the girl that everyone's talking about?"

"Oh, it's Brooklyn Wayne."

"Who's that?"

"You don't know who Brooklyn Wayne is? Mate, she runs one of the biggest corporations in the world. She's absolutely minted!"

* * *

When Brook and Alexis walked through the doors of the Great Hall, approximately a hundred pairs of eyes snapped towards the duo. Many students began murmuring and pointing out Brook as the girl in the rumors that circulated all morning. Brook did not miss the change in atmosphere in the Great Hall. She suddenly took center stage.

"Uh, Lex? Why is everyone staring at us?" Brook whispered.

"No idea. Let's just find a seat." She tugged Brook's arm, urging her forward.

Suddenly, two identically looking ginger boys from the Gryffindor table stood up and started to hoot and holler while clapping vigorously. Soon after, the rest of the Gryffindors followed suit, giving a standing ovation. The Ilvermorny students joined the Gryffindors, some of them nodding in acknowledgement of Brook's actions. The Ravenclaws refused to stand, believing that standing ovations were reserved for truly extraordinary feats, but clapped regardless. The Slytherin table shot daggers at Brook and Alexis in solidarity for Draco. Hufflepuff students were caught between staying silent and joining in the applause, not knowing which side to take without offending any one party. Brook and Alexis started to walk cautiously, unsure of the reason for the sudden attention.

"Would you like to sit with us?" A redheaded girl from the Gryffindor table gestured to the open spots next to hers. They stopped and shared a look with each other. Brook shrugged her shoulders as if to say _eh, why not?_ And took the girl up on her offer along with her best friend. "I guess I should introduce myself. Ginny Weasley." She stuck out her hand, which Brook and Alexis gladly shook.

"Brooklyn Wayne."

"Alexis Thompson."

"I'm Ron. Nice to meet you." Ron interjected from their right, mid-bite into his fifth strip of bacon that morning. He also offered his hand after he wiped the sauces and greases off on his robe. They just nodded and smiled.

"And that is my _disgusting_ " Ginny glared at him. "Idiot brother Ron. And next to him is—"

"Harry. Harry Potter. Good to meet you, Brooklyn and Alexis."

"Ah, the one and only." Brooklyn said. They shook _his_ hand, given that it wasn't lacking in basic sanitation.

"And finally, sitting across from Harry is Neville." Brook quickly recognized him from the Defense Against the Dark Arts class from the day before. He only managed to meekly wave hello, opting to stay quiet. "That about does it for now, I think. Well, minus Hermione. Of course, you've already met her." The youngest Weasley flashed the heiress a quick smirk. "I was wondering why she didn't come up to the dorms last night, but then I heard about what happened. I guess, by now everyone has heard what happened in one version or another."

"We thought it was bloody brilliant, Brooklyn." Ron added, now with an empty mouth. "It was about time someone gave Malfoy a proper arse kicking."

"Hence the standing ovation. It really was amazing, what you did. Malfoy's been spouting pure-blood nonsense at Hermione for years."

"It wasn't as noble as you all make it seem." Brook shook her head. "No one should talk to someone else like that. Especially Hermione." They all nodded in agreement.

"Speaking of which, where is she?" Alexis wondered aloud, searching across the Great Hall.

"She's in class." Ron was halfway through a croissant now. "I didn't even know that Hogwarts offered classes this early in the day. When it comes to school, she's mental, that one. You couldn't pay me all the bloody galleons in the entire world for me to sign up for a class like that."

Ginny aggressively rolled her eyes at her older brother. "Ron, you wouldn't have the scores to take the class anyway."

"Yeah, well. My point still stands." He muttered, finishing off his French pastry. "Who'd want to wake up that early?"

"Ginny and I wake up just as early for quidditch practice." Harry provided a counter-point. "We actually did some laps this morning with some of the returning players from last year's team. Even ran into Krum on the way back from the pitch."

Ron perked up immediately at the mention of the superstar's name. "You met Krum? What is he like up close? Did he say anything? What about any advice? Did you at least get his autograph, mate?" He gripped Harry's shoulders and shook him with every question, emphasizing how big a deal this was to him.

Harry chuckled. "No, Ron. It wasn't anything extraordinary. Just said hello."

"Just hello? Harry, this is Krum we're talking about here!"

"Uh sorry, who is this we're talking about?" Alexis raised her hand, unsure of where the conversation was heading.

"Oh boy. Here we go." Ginny said, knowing exactly the type of response Ron was about to give.

"Victor Krum, obviously! Only _the_ biggest superstar in the European Quidditch League! He's the fastest seeker in the entire world, _and_ he's the youngest player to ever be selected for the Bulgarian National Team. There's no one like him in the entire world. You should see him during games; he just glides out there—doesn't even seem like he's even flying on a broom. Amazing, given his build and height. Completely unprecedented for a seeker his size." Ron sighed, staring out into space.

"Oh, the super tall scary looking guy with the fur coat uniform!" Ron could only huff at Alexis' less than apt description of Krum. "I think I know who you're talking about know. I saw him put his name in the goblet yesterday."

"He's definitely going to be the Durmstrang champion. There's no doubt. If that flaming cup can actually decide who is the most qualified and worthy to compete, then it has to be Krum."

"What about for Hogwarts?" Alexis asked.

"No idea no one sticks out in my mind. What about you, Harry? Any ideas?"

"No, me neither. I've no idea. Maybe Cedric? Who knows?" He shrugged. "What about you two?" Gesturing to Brook and Alexis. "Have you put your names in?"

Alexis snorted, waving her hand away, dispelling the notion. "Ha, me? No. I don't have a death wish like this one here." She jerked her thumb at Brook.

"I put mine in the first night I got here. Should be interesting." The heiress responded.

"Interesting? More like insane and deadly." The redhead countered.

"Well they do have restrictions," she offered as a weak attempt at defending her case.

"Personally, I think the restrictions are rubbish." Ron added his two cents.

"Right, because then we can all get to see a first year that a bloody _cup_ picked get trampled by a troll." Ginny replied to her brother.

"I don't know, Harry and I managed just fine in our first year against a troll. Didn't we mate?" He grinned widely, leaning back while basking in his past accomplishments.

"Ronald, would it kill you to be modest for once in your life?" Hermione's sudden voice made the entire section jump.

"Is your class over already, 'Mione?" Ginny inquired.

"Yes, the professor let us out a couple minutes early today." She turned her attention to Brook and Alexis and offered a smile. "Shall we go to class then?"

* * *

"Hey Lex?"

"Yeah?"

"Got a question for you."

"Shoot." The two of them were lounging lazily on the couch in the commons area of the Ilvermorny dorms. Or helicopter, rather.

Brook sat on one end of the couch with her legs draped over Alexis' lap. She was holding a forensics report on the Quidditch World Cup attack produced by her own lab on one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. Alexis decided to use the time reading up on certain topics of interest.

"So, it's been two weeks since school's started. And yet, a certain French exchange student keeps stealing my seat next to yours in class. Any thoughts on that?" Brook suggestively wiggled her eyebrows.

Alexis' cheeks flushed as she pushed Brook's legs off of her lap.

"Hey! I almost dropped my coffee!" Brook protested, situating herself into a more stable sitting position. "Anyways, the French girl. You. My seat. Spill."

"Do I have to?" She whined, giving her best friend her best puppy dog eyes, but to no avail.

"Yes. I haven't sat next to my best friend in class for ages now, so this girl better be special. And I wanna hear all about her if that's the case."

"Well, Fleur, that her name first of all. Second of all, we're not… what you think we are."

"Hmm, I'll get back to that. What do you even talk about?" Alexis took a sudden interest in her shoelaces.

"I dunno. School stuff, I guess," she muttered.

"Just school stuff, huh?" Brook scooted closer. "Are you sure—Wait. What are you reading? _An Introduction to French Culture and Customs._ " She read aloud as her eyes widened. "Holy shit! You are so whipped! Ow!" A cushion made its way to Brook's face.

"It's just for research."

"Research? Really, Lex?"

"I mean, she's really…interesting, so I want to learn more about her culture. Nothing wrong with that."

"Interesting?" She scoffed. "Lex, just say she's hot." A punch on her arm this time.

"No! She's genuinely interesting! I like hearing about her home in France." She defended. Brook raised an eyebrow, urging her to continue. "And yes. She is very attractive."

"Ha! I knew it!"

"And nice! And smart! I'm not saying that she's only defined by her looks!" Alexis frantically asserted, speaking a mile a minute.

"Hey, no one said that," Brook let out a light laugh. She held Alexis' shoulders, trying to calm her down. "Do you two talk about anything else than 'school stuff?'" Her fingers air-quoted.

"Well, I already told you about how we talk about France. She asks about the US too. Mostly No-Maj things, like Hollywood celebrities and whatnot. And sometimes we talk about the actual class work."

"Anything else?"

"Well, she did ask me about something today."

"About what?"

"She asked me if I could help her with her English for the essay coming up."

"And did you say yes?"

"Of course I did! We're going to meet in her room in the Beauxbaton carriage tomorrow."

"Dude, I think she just asked you on a study date."

"What? No, I'm sure she meant it in a totally platonic, helping her with her essay as friends way."

"Psssh, yeah right. In her room, too? Lex, have you seen how the girl looks at you?"

"No, but there's just no way that she'd be into me."

"Oh my god, you are so oblivious."

"Well, whatever." Alexis rose up from the couch, intending to retire for the night.

"Just remember to use protection tomorrow," Brook teased. She might get a bruise on her arm at this rate.

* * *

Fleur paced nervously in her room, biting her meticulously manicured nails even though she knows that she shouldn't. She glanced at the clock every 3 seconds or so, much to the amusement of her sister.

_"_ _Fleur, I don't know why your stressing so much about this. Just wear whatever you want. I'm sure she won't mind,"_ Gabrielle suggested. She found it entertaining to see her typically composed sister act so flustered like this. Especially over something as trivial as what to wear for a study date. Under normal circumstances, she would have been more than content to let this go on longer, but she actually wanted to see Fleur and Alexis together.

_"_ _Gabrielle, I can't just wear whatever. It needs to be impressive. I need to be impressive."_ The youngest Delacour could only roll her eyes in response.

_"_ _It's just a study date. It's not like it's a date date, is it? Wait, is it?"_

_"_ _I don't know. I mean, I'd like it to be, but I don't know if she feels the same way."_

_"_ _Fleur, I'm sure she'll fall head over heels for you."_

_"_ _But in order for me to pull that off, I need to look impeccable!"_ Gabrielle buried her face in her hands.

_"_ _You'll look amazing regardless of what you wear. You asked me to come here for my advice, right?"_ Her sister nodded, worry still stitched into her face. _"Then, wear whatever makes you feel comfortable and confident. Just be yourself, Fleur. I'm sure she'll love you for you. And if she doesn't, then she's the dumbest person I've ever met."_

Fleur would be lying if she said she didn't jump a little when she heard the knock on her door. She took a deep breath, smoothing out any wrinkles in her sundress before opening the door. Her breath hitched as she took in the redhead in front of her. It was a rather simple outfit: a cropped hoodie and sweatpants, but it made Fleur's heart beat wildly regardless. Alexis looked just as nervous as she was. She was playing the strings of her hoodie with one hand and holding her books with the other.

"Oh! I…I, wow. Um. You, you look great, Fleur," she stammered, stumbling over her words. The veela flashed her a dazzling smile and gestured towards her room.

"Merci, Alex. I could say the same to you. Would you like to come in?"

"Yes! Yes, of course. I didn't realize that I was going to be so underdressed; I could go change super quick," she turned to head for the Ilvermorny dorms, but she was stopped by Fleur's hand on her shoulder.

"You don't have to change, ma chérie. This is just what I feel comfortable in. I apologize if I made you feel like you were underdressed. If anything, I'm the one who overdressed."

"No, no! You don't have to apologize for anything. It's just that you look so…wow." _Nice going Alexis, that'll impress her. Real subtle too, Casanova. Use some words. Actual words. Just anything other than 'wow'._ "Um, should we get started?"

"Oui, you can set your books down on my bed over there."

The night went by swimmingly. The two chatted about their respective countries and classes as Alexis read through Fleur's essay. Fleur's English wasn't terrible at all. Apart from a few minor grammatical mistakes, her English was nearly flawless. Coupled with her incredibly strong and persuasive argument, Alexis wondered why she was needed in the first place. She finished her edits and looked up from the stack of parchment.  
"Fleur, this is an amazing essay. I barely had to fix anything!"

"You are too kind, Alex. Surely there are things I can improve on."

"I mean yeah sure, but you can say that for basically everybody. As far as I'm concerned, this is as good as it gets for an essay." Alexis shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the foot of Fleur's bed as she struggled to find the right words to lead into her question. "Fleur, can I ask you something?"

"Anything you want, chérie." _God, her smile is so intoxicating._ Alexis let out a shaky breath.

"Why did you ask me to come here tonight? Not that I don't want to spend time with you or anything like that!" She added frantically. "I mean, you didn't need any help with your English, that much is clear with how good this is," she waved the pages of parchment for emphasis. "What am I _really_ doing here, Fleur?"

"Alex, I presume that you know that I am part veela?" The redhead nodded, recalling that piece of information from their past conversations. Also, it was hard to miss with the masses of drooling boys that constantly followed her around. "What do you know about our culture?"

"Well, I know that the veela are very secretive. Not many people know of their culture or practices."

"Yes, that is true. The veela culture is heavily guarded from any outsiders."

"And that the veela have a special ability that allows them to attract whoever they want."

"Not quite. We can't control the ability, or thrall as we call it. It usually leads to many unwanted advances."

"Which leads me to my next question: Why am I not affected by your thrall? I'm not saying that you're not beautiful! Because you are, _really_ beautiful. Like your eyes and your basically everything is just amazing. Unless you don't feel comfortable with me saying that in which case you can just totally disregard what I just said. Or not! That's cool too. Um, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm not drooling at you like the entire male population of Hogwarts or incredibly jealous of your looks either like the girls here. I can totally see why though, I mean have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? And that dress? Wow, I hope that didn't come out as creepy. Was that too creepy? I can just go if you want," Alexis was interrupted by Fleur's laughter. _Oh man, I'd give anything to make her laugh like that all the time._ Fleur lightly held the redhead's shoulders.

"Breathe, ma chérie. You are going to faint." Alexis nodded in agreement and took some deep breaths at Fleur's urging. "If I understood correctly, you are confused to as why you are not affected by my thrall like the other students?"

"Yes."

"I can answer your original question too with the answer for your second question. A major aspect of veela culture is that when they love someone, they love for life. It's an unbreakable bond between two individuals that connects their souls for as long as they live from the moment they lay their eyes on each other. It truly is love at first sight. The veela can only have one partner, or mate as we call it, who they are meant for during their entire life. It's almost as if the veela is a unique puzzle pieces that can only fit perfectly with the corresponding puzzle piece of her mate."

"And I'm going to assume that I am your…mate." Fleur's heart was beating erratically at a breakneck pace. Her hands were clammy and there was a growing unsettling pit in her stomach. She feared the worst.

"Yes. You are."

"Oh my god." _Merde. She hates me. Because I am veela._ "This is not real."

"You don't have to do anything, Alex. It is your choice and you can choose to not have anything to do with me and forget about all of this if you wish. I will respect your decision. I'm sorry if I caused you any discomfort." _Oh, Merlin._ This was worse than Fleur imagined heartbreak to feel like. No amount of anxious thoughts about the future truly prepared her for the feeling of her heart being ripped out of her chest. There was only a dull ache in her throat as she willed herself not to cry. She tried to look strong, but the pain was unbearable. She never believed that she would experience anything like the Cruciatus Curse, and yet here she was. _Don't cry, Fleur._ She berated herself. _Delacours should not cry._

"Fleur, are you kidding? This is amazing!" The redhead threw her arms around the veela, enveloping her in a warm hug. "Wait. Are you crying?" She quickly distanced herself from Fleur and retreated a couple feet. "Oh my goodness, I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I should have totally respected your personal space. I know that not everyone likes hugs and shoot, I'm such an idiot." Alexis wished that a sinkhole would appear where she stood and swallowed her whole. She looked back up at Fleur, surprised at her laugh. The veela reached out and cupped her face with her hands.

"No, mon amour. These are tears of happiness."

"Oh, jeez. You're going to make _me_ cry." She sniffed. "So, does this mean that we're dating now?" She smiled despite the tears that spilled out of her eyes.

Fleur laughed again. "Yes. It means that we are anything you want us to be."

"Then I'd like us to be together. Dating, I mean."

"Together and dating it is then." Maybe her sister was right. Maybe it all could work out in the end.

* * *

Hermione was curled up in her favorite corner of the library. The fire was crackling in the background, protecting her from the cold, unforgiving Scottish autumn winds. The warmth wrapped around her better than any blanket could. Unsurprisingly, the library was nearly empty at this time of night, leaving only the two extremes of the scholarly spectrum: those who wanted to get a head start on their academics and those who were well on their way through yet another coffee fueled homework/study binge, brought on by their own procrastination. Apart from the occasional cough, the chair scrapes, and the constant crackling of the fireplace, the Hogwarts library was deathly silent. And Hermione liked it that way. It gave her space and time to think, away from the bustling hallways, the cacophony of the Great Hall, and even from just the casual conversations in the Gryffindor common room.

Sure she enjoyed hanging out with her friends, but _this_ , the smell of old parchment and the indescribable feeling of warmth, _this_ was her natural element. She often found herself getting lost in the forest of books and resources that the library had to offer. Once she was drawn to a particular book or topic there was nothing that could drag her out from her hunt for knowledge. Some days, it got to the point to which Ginny, in her pajamas, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, had to beg for Hermione to go back up to the dorms and get some sleep. She didn't mind it, however. There was a reason she was "The Brightest Witch of Her Age," after all. A title like that doesn't come without any merit. Other kids her age tried hard at school, no question. But the thing that separated Hermione from the rest of the pack was her innate hunger for knowledge. She didn't just want to know, she _craved_ knowing. Hermione was never satisfied until she knew everything there is to know about a topic she attached herself to. Any less than mastery would not be enough. She experienced first hand how being more than just knowledgeable can save the lives of her friends. People she cared deeply about. So, her hunger grew. Because she had people that counted on her. She knew that without her, Harry and Ron, as great as they are, would be completely lost. Maybe even dead.

But tonight, she was in for some "light reading" as she called it. The last two weeks had been strenuous, even for her. The addition of the early morning class decreased the hours of sleep in her already depleted sleep schedule. Not to mention the growing feeling in her stomach about the Triwizard Tournament. You can call it paranoia, but after her first three years of Hogwarts, she was safe to assume the absolute worst in situations like these. Something was bound to go wrong, she could feel it. It always did. And a certain raven-haired witch who ran through her mind constantly certainly didn't help her mental fatigue. Ever since the first day of classes the lioness couldn't get her out of her mind. It was damn near impossible. So many questions and so much to know.

That was why she was spending yet another night in the library, reading something to just simply occupy her mind for the time being to help her soothe some of her edges. A "light reading" session, much to the dismay of her friends, especially Ron who was successfully getting on her nerves as of late: "But Hermione, you read all the time! Why can't you just take a break for a change and stop reading those stupid books? Never does me any good."

To which she replied: "Exactly, Ronald. Maybe if you actually tried to study for more than five minutes, you won't fail so many classes!" Ron let her go after that.

She was halfway into her book about charms developed in 16th century Italy, when she noticed the very girl who occupied her mind standing next to her.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Brook asked. Hermione pulled herself out of the page she was reading.

"No of course not. Go ahead." Hermione's focus turned back to her book, but from the corner of her eye, she caught the titles of the documents Brook held in her hand: _An Essay on Innovations of Magical Long-Range Communication, The Evolution of the Modern Dark Arts during the Great Wizarding War._ "How did you manage to get access to these documents? That one must be a millennia old!"

"Oh, I had to pull some strings within the Ministry and the American government. They're not really designed for the public eye." So, her reach extended far and wide even in the wizarding world.

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, each reading their respective literature on various magical topics. Despite her best efforts, Hermione couldn't maintain the same level of focus while reading. The same questions that circled her mind all week did so yet again unrelentingly. Her eyes would scan over a sentence only to come back to it because she didn't actually register the words on the page. She skipped lines, lost her place on the page, and even blanked out for whole paragraphs at a time. She couldn't take it anymore. She just had to know. Mustering up all of her Gryffindor courage, she asked Brook,

"Brooklyn, why did you stand up to Draco for me?" Brook set her papers down on the coffee table that was just in reach.

She cleared her throat. "No one should say those words to anyone. Especially not you, Hermione." She began, echoing her statement from weeks prior. "You of all people don't deserve to be called something like that. You are extraordinary, Hermione. No matter what he says. You are by far the smartest person I have ever met and also one of the most caring. You have no reason to give to this world and yet you do. I mean, how many teenagers start their own political movement for the betterment of house elves? That's what makes you special, Hermione: you care. Maybe a bit too much. You don't have to take shit from Draco, you don't have to take shit from anybody. I may have gotten a bit shaken up from that day, but I would do it again a thousand times. For you." Hermione's hazel eyes met Brook's grey. "You're worth it, Hermione. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Hermione was normally more composed than this, but the rush of emotions she felt at that moment brushed aside her self-restraint. She threw her arms around the heiress and latched on tightly. Brook was surprised initially, to say the least, as evidenced by her slight jump when Hermione made contact. Knowing that Hermione needed her, she willed herself to relax in her embrace. Hugs weren't really her thing, but for Hermione, she could make an exception. Brook wasn't sure what to do with her arms until she decided to rub reassuring circles on Hermione's back.

"You're worth it, Hermione." She repeated in a whisper, her lips against her ear.

* * *

The Great Hall was a bubbling cauldron of anticipation as they anxiously awaited the cup's decision. Many students were still speculating among themselves who would be the champion for their respective schools. As for the Hogwarts students, in particular, house pride was clearly evident as each table was sure that one of their own housemates would be chosen for the title of Hogwarts Champion.

The masses quieted down when they noticed the great wizard making his way towards the podium. For once, the student body was quiet exactly when it needed to be.

"Good evening students. Today marks a historic day, in which four brave qualified students will be chosen by the Goblet of Fire to represent their school in the Triwizard Tournament for their chance at eternal fame and glory. I cannot emphasize enough the great honor it is to be chosen as a champion. The tournament itself is a true testament to a wizard's skill, wit, bravery, and sheer will. It is only through the combination of these traits that success can be achieved. The four selected today are truly the best each school has to offer as it will take only the best to navigate through the daunting tasks that lie ahead." Dumbledore made his way towards the flaming cup. "At the announcement of the names of the champions, I invite them to stand in front of the podium, facing the student body. For Durmstrang," A piece of parchment flew out of the flames, which Dumbledore caught with ease. "Victor Krum!" The entire hall erupted into cheers as the superstar seeker strode confidently to the front. He gazed stoically out into the crowded, his face betraying no emotions.

"And from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Fleur Delacour!" Brook heard an audible gasp from Alexis as the veela's name was called. The redhead gripped tightly onto her friends arm, knowing the risks that came along with the tournament. Fleur walked with infinite elegance, power and determination exuding from each step she took. She flashed Alexis a bright smile. It only marginally made her feel any better. If anything, her heart beat even faster.

"Ilvermorny's champion will be, Brooklyn Wayne!" Brook could hear the loud cheers that came from the Gryffindor table from her newly made friends. She gave Alexis' hand a reassuring squeeze, knowing how much she disagreed with her participation in the tournament. Alexis couldn't sleep last night because of the mere possibility that her best friend and her girlfriend could be selected for this insane event. And now her deepest fears had come true. Nonetheless, she offered Brook a supportive smile and nudged her towards the other champions.

"Go get 'em, tiger."

"And lastly, for Hog—" Dumbledore never got to finish. He was interrupted by the cup prematurely presenting the slip of the Hogwarts champion. The Hall was deathly silent. This wasn't supposed to happen. Brook's brows furrowed in worry. From what she's read on the tournament, the Goblet of Fire didn't make mistakes like this. Something was wrong. Dumbledore calmly opened the folded piece of parchment and nearly whispered the name she was dreading to hear: "Harry Potter."

_No fucking way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post Chapter A/N: I'm currently in the process of outlining and researching for another fic I am planning to do in the Supergirl Supercorp fandom. If that's your cup of tea, then great! You're in luck, be on the look out for it. If not, then you can just ignore what I just wrote. The other fic will not interrupt the production of Protinus in any way. The actual start of the fic might be weeks out because I'm still figuring out where all the characters fit into the story. I want to have it be fleshed out in the planning stage as I did with Protinus. Please be patient!
> 
> Next chapter preview: The first task! And you'll finally get to know why the title of the fic is what it is! -WR


	7. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang deals with the aftermath of the Goblet's selections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was delayed a bit as I was recovering from a car accident I was in, so I apologize for the late update. As I was writing this chapter, I realized that it was going to be a mammoth of a chapter if I didn't split it into two parts, so the first trial will have to wait until the next chapter. As always, please enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> Song inspiration for this chapter: Ta-ku - Long Time No See (Feat. Atu)

            As soon as Harry’s name was chosen by the Goblet, Dumbledore led the champions, Professors Snape, McGonagall, Jackson, and Karkaroff, Madam Maxine, and Barty Crouch Sr. to the trophy room. Dumbledore was the last to enter and the door closed with a resounding thud. That was when all hell broke loose. In the privacy of the trophy room, Madam Maxine and Professor Karkaroff began flinging accusatory remarks at an unprepared Harry while Mr. Crouch rummaged in his bag for some document he couldn’t find. Fleur and Victor shared a look that said, _I’m not getting in the middle of that,_ opting to stay quiet until their respective heads of school finished blowing off their steam. Meanwhile, Dumbledore was in deep conversation with Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall. Professor Jackson watched the chaos unfold from the afar, situating himself near the back of the room.

            “Dumbledore, how can you let this boy cheat? This is a disgrace!” exclaimed Madam Maxine, her pointer finger pointed squarely at Harry’s nose.

            “What did you do, boy? How did you fool the Goblet?” Karkaroff’s face was only inches away from Harry’s face, glaring menacingly. Harry sank deeper into the chair, hoping to create some space.

            “Woah, wait! Calm the fuck down for a second!” Brook exclaimed, putting a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t even have proof that he did it!”

            “Proof? We have all the proof we need. His name was chosen by the Goblet.” Karkaroff snarled, coming face to face with Brook.

            She could only roll her eyes. “Yeah, we all saw that; we were just there. What I’m saying is that the Goblet is protected by magical charms, and Harry, as a fourth year student at Hogwarts shouldn’t and doesn’t have the knowledge necessary to bypass the security installed by Dumbledore and the Ministry.”

            “You don’t want to test me, girl.”

            “Yeah? Try me, you—“ Brook didn’t get to finish as she was interrupted by Dumbledore clearing his throat. He strode over to where Harry was sitting and kneeled to his eye level.

            “Harry, answer me in complete honesty. Did you put your name in the Goblet?” He asked calmly.

            “No sir, I did not.” Harry replied, shaking his head vigorously.

            “He could be lying!” Madam Maxine shrieked.

            Dumbledore beckoned Professor Snape over.

            “Severus, the Veritaserum, please.” He turned his attention back to the Gryffindor. “Harry, this is a very powerful truth potion. I do believe you, but this is necessary to put some minds at ease.”

            Harry nodded and drank the vial in one go.

            “Did you enter your name in the Goblet?”

            “No sir.”

            Dumbledore stood up and faced the two accusatory professors. “There you have it.” He gestured to Harry.

            “He doesn’t have to compete, right? Since he didn’t enter his name?” Brook asked, eyes darting from Dumbledore to Mr. Crouch and back to Dumbledore again. Mr. Crouch was still mumbling to himself with his hand deep into his bag when he suddenly pulled out a piece of parchment.

            “I believe I have the answer to your question, Miss Wayne. According to the official rules of the Triwizard Tournament drafted centuries ago, “when a champion is chosen, the witch or wizard is automatically bound to a magical contract that can only be voided in the event of serious injury, death, or the completion of the tournament.’”

            “So, Monsieur Potter will have to compete.” Madame Maxine commented ruefully.

            “Yes, it seems that way,” said Dumbledore.

            “Albus, you’re not seriously going to let Harry compete? He’s only a fourth year, after all,” exclaimed Professor McGonagall in an attempt to protect one of her lions.

            “I am aware of that, but given the circumstances, I am afraid that there is no other option present. Mister Potter will have to compete in the Triwizard Tournament.”

* * *

 

            Brook walked towards the Ilvermorny helicopter at a brisk pace, bundled up in her overcoat. As she crossed the main quad of the campus, there was not a soul to be seen. Just about all of the students had made their way to their respective dorms presumably to talk about the tournament amongst themselves.

            With each step, she saw the hints of her visible breath, chilled by the crisp Scottish night air. Her hands were stuffed in her coat pockets, providing her some warmth, but she definitely regretted forgoing her scarf tonight. The frigid gusts stung her already reddened cheeks even though it wasn’t as cold as it would be during the winters at Hogwarts. She flinched when the leaves rustled in the icy winds, her nose scrunched up, bracing for impact. She didn’t necessarily mind the cold; she’d lived in New York for just about her entire life, after all, but the autumn nights at Hogwarts were still, well, cold.

            As she neared the helicopter, she could make out a lone figure standing beside the main doors to the dormitories. Brook quickened her pace. The curfew was in effect; there shouldn’t be anyone outside the campus at this hour. She dug her hand out of her pocket and reached inside her coat, her fingers closing around her wand in her holster, just in case.

            When the figure turned around, Brook slowed down to a walk and let go of her wand, her shoulders visibly relaxing, now free of tension. She was surprised that she didn’t notice the unmistakable mess of brown curls from a distance. Her scarlet and gold scarf was a dead giveaway as well in hindsight.

            Jumping slightly with a jolt, Hermione greeted Brook with a warm smile that she always had for her. However, it turned into some unnatural mixture of a smirk and a frown because of her numb face. Her cheeks were almost as red as her scarf, battered by the cold winds.

            “Hello, Brooklyn.” She offered a wave.

            “Jesus, Hermione. Have you been waiting out here?” Brook frowned as she took in the lioness’s outfit tonight: just her usual white buttoned shirt coupled with her Gryffindor styled tie underneath her grey knitted jumper and rounded off by her simple black skirt. Judging by the color of her cheeks and the way she crossed her arms, she must have been standing out here for a while. She was still fidgeting to maintain any resemblance of warmth.

            “Yes, waiting for you, actually.”

            “God, you must be freezing. Here,” Brook undid the buttons on her overcoat and slid it over Hermione’s shoulders. “Better?”

            Hermione nodded, smiling meekly, grateful for the additional layer of clothing. Brook walked up to the doors of the helicopter and uttered the secret phrase.

            “We hold these truths to be self-evident.” The doors slid open silently. Hermione raised an eyebrow at the password.

            “The Declaration of Independence?”

            Brook looked back with a smirk, one foot in the helicopter.

            “Yeah, our Headmaster chose it before we left. Pretty fitting since we’re in Britain, huh?” The Gryffindor merely rolled her eyes as a response and followed Brook into the Ilvermorny dormitories.

            “You know,” Brook started, glancing to her left. “You could have just knocked. Someone would have opened the doors for you.”

            Hermione shrugged. “It’s late. I didn’t want to wake anyone.”

            “Fair enough, I guess.”

            The Ilvermorny dorms were unlike any that Hermione had seen before. The walls were lined with wood tiles, illuminated with skylights that stretched as far as the eye can see. Famous paintings and photographs by American artists adorned the walls, some that Hermione was sure she had seen in a museum. They were in mint perfect condition, and she couldn’t possibly discern the difference. In the nighttime, fluorescent lights that weaved through the cracks in the wooden walls lit the marble floor, providing additional sight in the darkness. Intermittently, there were large windows that offered glimpses into the indoor garden the dormitories housed. She wasn’t the botany expert that Neville was, but Hermione could still recognize the roses, tulips, and pine trees that populated the natural space. She even saw gigantic redwood trees that seemed to go on for miles, nearly touching the stars.

            Hermione was too busy gawking at the garden to notice that Brook had stopped, causing them to knock shoulders. She had to take a step back to regain her balance.

            “Sorry, I didn’t see that you stopped.”

            “You’re good. So, this is it.” Brook gestured to the door that was carved out of the wooden wall. “Chocolate cheesecake,” she stated. With that, the door slid open.

            “Chocolate cheesecake?” Hermione chuckled at the unexpected password.

            “It’s my favorite dessert.” Brook defended.

            Brook’s room was incredibly spacious, if not a little…bare. It had all the necessities: a desk, a bed, and a bathroom, but it lacked a personal touch. It might have well been stolen straight out of a generic IKEA catalog. There were barely any personal items to speak of, barring her textbooks and a solitary framed picture on her desk of her and Alexis. It was taken at a Yankees game, with both girls donning Derek Jeter jerseys and matching Yankees hats. Alexis took the photo herself, smiling as wide as her cheeks will allow, while Brook, with her aviators on, stared blankly at the camera, a minute hint of a smile creeping in the corner of her mouth.

            Hermione stood idly near the entrance, unsure of where to sit.

            “You can sit on the bed, just let me put my bag away.” Brook turned around, facing her guest. “Do you want coffee? Some tea?”

            “Tea please.”

            After a couple of minutes, they sat face to face on Brook’s bed, a steaming mug of Earl Grey tea and a freshly brewed cup of cappuccino in their respective hands. Hermione was warming up each passing second thanks to her tea.

            “So, what brings you here at this hour?” Brook inquired, taking a sip of her coffee afterwards.

            “Well, I wanted to talk to you about the tournament. More specifically, about Harry.”

            “Um. Okay?” She wasn’t sure where this conversation leading.

            “I don’t understand how his name was chosen, but considering how Harry is a human magnet for trouble, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.” Her shoulder slumped as she let out a sigh. “I’m worried for him. I read up on the history of the tournament, and I found that, statistically, the death rate for champions is about 23 percent. Which is absurd for a school competition! I don’t have the faintest idea what Dumbledore’s reasons are for resurrecting the tournament, but I can tell you they’re not good enough.”

            “So, you’re worried about Harry getting hurt?”

            “Well, yes. But more specifically, for him ending up dead. The competition is a literal death trap, for God’s sake! It’s not that I don’t have confidence in his magical abilities; I do. I can’t count the number of times he has saved my life over the last few years, but he’s still a fourth year.”

            “Right. But I’m a fifth year. Not much of a difference.”

            Hermione scooted closer. “But I’ve seen what you can do, Brooklyn. Trust me, you’re far more capable than any fifth year I’ve seen.” Brook opened her mouth to protest, but Hermione kept going.

            “And don’t even try to display any false modesty, Brooklyn Wayne, because I’ve seen you perform more wandless magic than some adults can.” Brook closed her mouth at that. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… Please look out for Harry, Brooklyn. And I know that this is a competition and all, but please.” Brook could see the sincerity in the Gryffindor’s eyes. “He’s been through so much already. More than what anyone should have to go through in a lifetime. This is the last thing he needs on his plate.”

            “Okay.”

            Hermione seemed taken aback.

            “Okay? Just like that?”

            “Just like that.”

            Hermione sported a wide grin the entire trek back to the Gryffindor dorms, some weight taken off of her shoulders. The cold didn’t bother her as much as it did an hour earlier, mainly because of the coat that Brook insisted she hang on to for the night. She could still smell the traces of coffee on her coat. It made her smile even wider.

* * *

 

            Fleur cautiously stepped into her room late in the night after a long talk with Madame Maxine about expectations for the tournament.

            _“It is imperative that you do whatever it takes to win this tournament, you understand? It is the first Triwizard Tournament in centuries, and Beauxbatons will not have its reputation tarnished by a twelve year old boy! I’m sure you are aware of what an embarrassing showing in the tournament would mean for your family’s name, Miss Delacour? Good. I’m sure you’ll do all of us proud. I’ve outlined a training regimen for you that you will start tomorrow. There will be no excuses, Miss Delacour. Anything less than the best is unacceptable. You would be wise to remember that.”_

She opened the door to her room carefully, not wanting to wake anyone up. She was surprised to be greeted with a scene that absolutely melted her heart.

            Alexis and Gabrielle were sprawled out on the floor, facing each other as they concentrated on their ongoing chess match. The redhead wore a content smile on her face, waiting for the younger veela to make her move. Judging from the number of pieces still left on the board, it was clear that Alexis was in complete control of the game. Fleur opted to just stand in the doorway, happy to drink in the scene in front of her. Gabrielle furrowed her eyebrows and rolled a pawn she had won between her fingers while contemplating her next move. No matter what she did on the board, Alexis always had the perfect counter. It was a lost cause from the first move.

            “You’re too good at this game.” Gabrielle was exasperated, having just lost her queen. “We should play something else.”

            “All right. What suits your fancy?”

            Gabrielle looked up at Alexis with pure confusion etched on her face. “Suits…my fancy? What is, ‘my fancy’?”

            “She’s asking for your preference, Gabrielle.” They turned towards the door at the sound of Fleur’s voice.

            “Fleur!”

            The youngest Delacour rushed to her sister, enveloping her in a bone-crushing hug.

_“You’re back! I can’t believe you’re a champion, Fleur. Have you told mama? Did they tell you what you’re going to be up against for the first task?”_

_“No, not yet.”_ Fleur returned her sister’s hug with the same intensity. Over her shoulder, she saw Alexis waiting patiently a few paces behind them, a somber smile on her face. _“It’s getting late. How about you go to sleep and I’ll tell you everything you want to know in the morning?”_

_“Okay. See you tomorrow then. Goodnight, Fleur.”_ She waved to the redhead as well. “Goodnight, Alex. Thanks for playing with me.”

“Anytime.”

Fleur gently closed the door behind Gabrielle before facing her girlfriend. _Wow. It still feels a bit weird to say that._

“I’m sorry about Gabrielle. She tends to get bored quite easily. I apologize if she bothered you at all.”

“No, no, no. Not at all. She’s a sweet kid, it was my pleasure.” Fleur gracefully closed the distance between them and greeted her with a chaste kiss to her cheek. Alexis knew that it was customary to do so in French culture, but it didn’t stop her cheeks from flushing. Even seconds after, she could still feel the veela’s lips on her skin.

“What’s on your mind, ma belle? I can tell that something is bothering you.”

“Can we sit?” She gestured to Fleur’s bed.

“If you wanted me in bed, you should have just said so,” Fleur wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Alexis rolled her eyes in response, her cheeks heating up even further.

“Just sit. And listen.”

“Is this about the tournament?”

“Yeah. It is. And before you say anything, just hear me out first. Then, I’ll listen to anything you have to say. Deal?”

Fleur nodded.

“I don’t want you to compete in the tournament.”

Fleur opened her mouth to argue, but immediately closed it, remembering her promise.

“I know how much this means to you, your family, and your school, Fleur, but I’m worried. It’s not to say that I’m not happy for you, I am. I know that I can’t convince you otherwise and stop you from competing. And I won’t since you want to be a champion, but it doesn’t mean that I’m not any less afraid of you getting hurt or killed in one of these tasks. You’re a great witch, Fleur, nobody doubts that, but it’s still incredibly dangerous. I guess what I’m trying to say is…I’m scared. Terrified, actually.”

The veela brought her in for a tight hug, rubbing soothing circles on Alexis’ back.

“I know, ma cheríe. I am too. But you’ll have to trust me, trust that I can make it back to you every task unscathed. Can you do that for me?”

“I trust you,” she mumbled into her shoulder. When she looked up again, there was a single tear leaking out from her eye. Fleur delicately touched her fingers to her cheek and wiped the tear away.

            “I need you to promise me.” Alexis started. “Promise me that you won’t be a hero. Don’t try anything dangerously stupid and put your life on the line just for a trophy. I want you back in one piece. You’re still my girl even if you don’t win.” More tears threatened to spilled out of her eyes. “Don’t be a hero, Fleur. Please.”

            “I promise.”

* * *

            There was only one morning in the past five years of school that Alexis had breakfast without a grumpy billionaire by her side, silently sipping coffee. Today made it the second time. The first time it happened, it was purely out of necessity.

~~~~~~~~~

            It was in their third year, long after Brook had given up on ignoring Alexis’ constant attempts at friendship and actually gave the girl a chance. The night before that day, a series of coordinated attacks on Wayne Enterprises property forced Julius to retrieve Brook from the Ilvermorny campus with armed guards to place the heiress in hiding in a safe house with an undisclosed location. Alexis spent the following 24 hours in a flurry of worried texts and nervous nail biting.

 

**11:48 PM**

**Alexis**

Hey, are you okay?

 

Where are they taking you?

 

Is it safe?

 

Just text me when you get there so I know you’re okay!

 

**Brook**

I just arrived.

 

And also, the point of a safe house is that

no one knows where it is.

 

**Alexis**

Whoops! Sorry.

 

Do you know when you can come back?

 

**Brook**

I don’t know

 

Could be days, weeks, tough to tell

 

**Alexis**

Oh

 

**Brook**

Oh what?

 

**Alexis**

This thing could take weeks???

 

**Brook**

With the military grade explosives they used and the

precision and coordination of the attacks, I’m

led to believe that we’re dealing with a more

serious threat than I first thought.

 

I have to go; need to brief the board.

 

**Alexis**

Ok, I’m going to miss you!!

 

But please please PLEASE stay safe!!!!

 

Don’t do anything STUPID or STUBBORN

 

OR BOTH

 

BROOKLYN KATE WAYNE IF YOU PUT

YOURSELF IN ANY MORE DANGER I SWEAR

I WILL TRACK YOU DOWN AND KILL YOU MYSELF

 

**Brook**

No promises.

 

            Brook returned to school the next day, reassuring Headmaster Jackson, Julius, and especially Alexis that everything is fine and that they have nothing to worry about. Julius followed Brook to her dorm and pleaded for her to rethink her decision.

            “All I’m saying is that it would be prudent for us to wait until more information has been revealed. There’s no use in risking your life unnecessarily.”

            “The preliminary forensics report from the FBI indicates that the main cause of the damage was due to military grade explosives. If that really is the case, then our perpetrators can be assumed as a no-maj organization, right? Then, logically, Ilvermorny would be the safest location.”

            Julius opened his mouth to interject, but Brook continued on, the look on her face as determined as ever. She had the famous “Wayne look” that made seasoned CEOs and aurors alike tremble in fear, which she undoubtedly inherited from her parents. With each passing day, Julius could see how much of the late Waynes were evident on the young heiress. She was a perfect mirror of both, an uncompromising mixture of power and conviction.

            “I refuse to be scared into hiding. Cowering away in a remote safe house is exactly what they want. A Wayne does not bend. A Wayne does not hide. You should know that better than anyone.” She nearly snarled the words as it left her throat. Her eyes darkened considerably, almost a midnight black rather than her usual grey.

“They wanted my attention, now they have it. I will not hesitate to use every available resource to find those responsible and make sure they never see the light of day again. I’m staying here, and that’s final.”

~~~~~~~~~

            So there she was, walking into the Great Hall with a coffee in each hand that she had made while completely forgetting that Brook won’t be joining her this morning. It was second nature at this point, a reflex she had developed over the years: Wake up, brew coffee for two, wake up Brook.

            But today, she was without best friend for the majority of the day, as Brook and the other champions were granted a special schedule to fit their training regimen from their respective head of schools. Alexis scanned over the Gryffindor table, searching for the group of lions that she regularly dined with.

            It had surprised both Alexis and Brook how quickly they had made friends at Hogwarts. Sure, Alexis had a handful of friends back in Ilvermorny and Brook even less so, but within a week of setting foot in Scotland, they already had found a group welcoming arms in record time. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and even the notoriously shy Neville seemed to genuinely enjoy the Americans’ presence, taking no time at all to integrate them into their pre-existing circle of friends.

            They had also introduced Alexis and Brook to other students in different houses, such as Luna, a Ravenclaw, and Hannah, a Hufflepuff. Even as an exchange student, Alexis felt very acclimated to the ways of the Scottish wizarding school in the month and a half she has been here.

            As always, Ginny was in a heated debate about quidditch with another Gryffindor, she couldn’t quite remember the name of… _Kristen? No. Kelly? Not that either. Ah, Katie! That’s it. Katie._ Hermione and Neville were well into their discussion about herbology and which plants would be present for the midterm test that loomed in a week. It was almost as if nothing had changed, as if the Triwizard Tournament was just a figment of her imagination that never occurred, but the section of the table was too bare for that to her reality. The table was missing several key individuals, namely Harry, Ron, and Brook.

            Harry and Brook’s absence Alexis could understand, remembering how the heiress insisted that Harry accompany her and participate in her training sessions. But Ron’s absence she could not figure out. He didn’t have an early morning class that she knew of like Hermione (not that he would be interested in such a class anyway). He also never missed breakfast, or any meal really. Despite his moderately slim stature, the Weasley could scarf down an entire feast by himself if he wanted to. And yet, he was nowhere to be seen. It was odd, to say the least.

            “Where’s Ron?” Alexis inquired, filling in the empty space that they had reserved for her between Ginny and Hermione.

            “Oh, don’t even get me started on my idiot brother.” Ginny huffed, turning her attention to the fellow redhead who just joined the table. “Ron’s got his knickers in a bunch because Harry’s a champion and he’s not.”

            Grabbing a croissant off of the pastries rack, Alexis raised an eyebrow.

            “But Harry didn’t want to champion in the first place. He didn’t even put his name in. He _couldn’t_ have put his name in.”

            “Exactly!” Ginny let out an exasperated sigh, throwing her hands up in frustration. “He can’t get that through that thick skull of his and he’s been avoiding us ever since. Especially Harry. Hermione and I have been trying to talk to him, but he’s too busy being an idiot to actually listen.”

            “I’m sure he’ll come around eventually.” She offered without knowing if that would be the case. From the little interactions she’s had with Ron, it seemed like he was a genuinely nice guy, maybe just a bit misguided at times. But what does she know? She’s only been here for a month and a half, after all.

            The rest of breakfast was a normal affair, the four Gryffindors and the exchange student discussing a myriad of topics ranging from upcoming quidditch season to the ridiculous five foot essay that Professor Snape had assigned. Apparently, Ginny and Katie were both on the Gryffindor quidditch team with the former having made the team as a second-year, a rare occurrence only outshone by Harry’s induction into the team during his first-year. They discussed potential tactics and expectations for the season ahead. There wasn’t a huge talent drop-off from this year’s team and last year’s, even with the departure of the seventh-year players. An exciting new wrinkle to this season was the inclusion of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons teams, a welcome but formidable challenge.

            “Merlin, Krum’s going to absolutely murder us on the pitch, isn’t he?” Ginny groaned, taking her face in her hands.

            “I’d be impressed if the game doesn’t end in a minute, to be honest,” Katie replied. The Bulgarian was simply out of their league in quidditch, figuratively and literally. According to Ginny, she had never seen any seeker like him before. His speed and agility in the skies were simply unmatched.

            “What about Ilvermorny? Do you have a team as well?” Hermione asked, always curious to learn about the various wizarding cultures of the world.

            “We have one, but it’s not that big or serious. It’s not a huge sport in America. I don’t think any of the students that came here play it.” That was nearly blasphemous to Ginny’s ears. Quidditch? A small sport? Not serious? What kind of backwards country was America?

            “How is that possible? What could you all possibly play that’s better than quidditch?” Ginny was at a loss.

            “We usually play no-maj—sorry, muggle sports.” Alexis corrected herself. It was going to take some time to get used to the colloquial terms of the British wizarding world. “Like soccer, basketball, and whatnot. Almost everyone plays a sport at Ilvermorny: I play soccer and Brook plays basketball, for example.”

            “Any particular reason why muggle sports are still popular in the American wizarding world?” Hermione piped up, her ever-present penchant for knowledge peaking through.

            “I think we make a concerted effort to kinda mesh the magical and muggle worlds together. Muggle technology is allowed on Ilvermorny campus and sometimes even used in class.” Hermione was enthralled by what she was hearing. She had been to neighboring countries like France and Ireland before, but she had yet to venture outside of Europe, which was what made this year’s exchange student program so exciting. She could learn so much from her fellow classmates; they had so much to offer. “If I remember correctly, ever since the Salem witch trials, the wizards in America have tried to maintain a close and friendly relationship with the muggles. I think the main reason for the integration of muggle culture is to never let something as horrendous as the witch trials happen again through understanding on both sides.”

            “Oh that is absolutely fascinating. Do you happen to have a History of Magic textbook from Ilvermorny that I could borrow? I love to know more.”

            “Of course! I’m not sure if I still have it, but I’m 99% sure that Brook has a copy that she’s never touched.”

            “So, going back to quidditch.” Ginny changed directions back to the original topic of the discussion. She still couldn’t believe that quidditch was not the most sport in America. Ridiculous. “Do you guys know anything about the Beauxbatons team?”

            “Oh, Fleur plays for them! She’s a chaser, I think.” Alexis said, perking up at the opportunity to talk about her girlfriend.

            “Fleur? Like the one that has the entire Hogwarts male population drooling, that Fleur?”

            “Speak of the devil,” Katie muttered, just barely audible to Ginny and Alexis.

            Alexis jumped ever so slightly in her seat when the veela’s soft lips landed on her cheek.

            “Good morning, ma belle. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Alexis waved her off.

            “Oh no, no. You’re good.” She squeaked out, her cheeks matching the color of her hair. _Did it just get hot in here all of the sudden?_

            “I have to go train for the tournament, but I wanted to say hello and drop this off.” Fleur rummaged in her bag for a moment and pulled out a rather thick and ancient looking book, which Alexis gladly accepted. “I had it brought in from France and translated to English. I think you might find it quite…interesting.” Fleur reached down and whispered the last word in the redhead’s hair, sending chills down her spine. Fleur departed with a flirty wink and an airy laugh. “I’ll see you at dinner, cheríe.”

            Katie let out a low whistle, remarking, “That’s some girl,”

            Ginny belted out laughing from her left, giving Alexis a playful nudge.

            “Bloody hell, Thompson’s got game! Way to go, Alexis!”

_Yeah. It definitely got hotter in here._


	8. The First Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons! Action! Intrigue! Danger!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to apologize for taking so damn long to write an update. It's been awhile, guys. And for that, I'm so sorry. I was dealing with a lot of medical and personal issues and eventually lost the energy to continue this story. 
> 
> But have no fear! I have a lot of time on my hands now that I'm essentially done with all of my high school obligations. And this fic, no matter how long it takes for me to pump out an update, will never be abandoned. I'm too invested in the story and I love the characters too much to just let it go. 
> 
> So without further ado, the latest update! It's the longest chapter I've written, so let me know what you think! Hope you guys enjoy it!

            If Brook had known just how cold Scottish mornings were, she would have packed more hoodies to wear. She couldn’t just keep wearing the same one every morning she trained with Harry, and early mornings at Hogwarts were definitely nowhere close to t-shirt weather. Each breath she inhaled burned her throat; the frigid winds stinging her already numb cheeks. It wasn’t quite winter yet as they were just a week away from November, but the icy chills shot daggers into her bones, aching even beneath the skin. When she spent enough time in the cold, she managed to retain enough body heat to feel ‘loose’, but for the first couple of miles, her stiff joints felt like the reincarnation of the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. Brook and Harry were three miles into their six-mile morning ‘warm up’ jog as Brook called it, with Harry just a step and a half behind the heiress.

            “Listen, Brooklyn,” Harry huffed in between strides. His usual Quidditch practices didn’t call for extreme amounts of cardio. However, he was keeping up just based on his natural athletic ability. At first, The Boy Who Lived lagged more than a few paces behind Brook, his stomach burning feverishly near the first mile mark, but over time, his endurance improved as his body adjusted to the increased physical exertion. “Is a six mile run every morning really necessary for the tournament?”

            Glancing back towards Harry, she shot him a disapproving look, a slight frown etched on her face. “Of course it is. The physical aspect should be something that we shouldn’t have to worry about, like a baseline. Plus, it’s good for your overall conditioning for sports and health.”

            “Says the one who stuffed her face with three chocolate covered pastries before we got out here,” Harry teased with a smirk. Ever since the first week that he had met Brook, the heiress’ love for pastries was clearly evident, only rivaled by her love of coffee. She never left a meal without a couple tucked into her bag for later.

            “Well, that’s different.” Brook defended herself indignantly.

            “Oh yeah? How so?”

            “I’m faster than you.”

            Harry took the moment to shoot forward, darting ahead of Brook to her left, leaving her in his dust. “We’ll see about that! See you at the lake!” He called behind.

            “That sonofabitch,” Brook muttered under her breath, chasing after Harry. She forced her sore thighs to work double time as she sprinted to catch up to the Gryffindor who was already a couple yards in front, his uncombed hair flopping wildly with each stride.

            It was a close affair; way tighter than Brook had expected. It took her a better part of the next mile to catch up with Harry, who exhibited no signs of slowing down. The two were extremely competitive in nature, and it showed in the glint in their eyes and their gritted teeth. Neither one was prepared to give ground any time soon. Their lungs burned, begging for rest and air, but they pushed on, not wanting to be the first one to give up and retire.  

            By the final 100 yards, Harry’s lack of conditioning during the summer caught up with him as Brook edged out in front for the hard fought victory. At the end of the impromptu race, the two champions collapsed on beach, not caring if the sand leaked into their clothes. They were breathing hard, their legs refusing to move.

            “Let’s...” Brook was still catching her breath. “Let’s take a break.”

            “Wonderful idea.”

            After a prolonged water break back at the Great Hall, they dragged themselves back out to shores of the Great Lake for more training.

            “So,” Harry started. “Since we have no idea what the first task will be, how do we go about actually preparing for it?”

            “Expanding our magical repertoire is a good place to start.” Brook reasoned. “If we have a vast amount of spells and charms to use against whatever we’ll face, then I figure that’s the only possible way we can prepare for it. Apart from, you know, actually figuring out what the first task is. But we can assume that it’ll be designed to stretch our magical knowledge and ability, so we can go from there.” After observing her impressive display during the Ilvermorny introduction, Harry had no doubt that Brook was more than a capable witch. Just from the 30 seconds he had seen, he noticed the raw magical power that resided in the heiress. Conjuring and gracefully controlling Fiendfyre was practically unheard of for a student, even in small amounts. Attempts from inexperienced wielders could yield disastrous results, ranging from self-inflicted burns to the destruction of an entire building. It was an incredibly fickle and powerful spell, requiring an immense amount of concentration and magical ability. It was clear that Brook had both.

            “I’m not too familiar with Hogwarts’ curriculum in the past years. Is there anything that pops out from your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes that might be useful?”

            “No, I’m afraid not.” Harry winced, recalling the revolving door of teachers who had assumed the post with incomplete lesson plans, only to resign by the end of the school year. In Harry’s first three years at Hogwarts, Professor Lupin was clearly the most ‘teacher-esque’ and effective of the bunch, but considering the other candidates, that wasn’t saying much. “We haven’t had the best teachers in the last couple of years.”

            “That’s,” Brook ran her fingers through her raven locks, taking in a slight breath, shifting her weight from her right to her left. “That’s fine, I guess. We still have time to learn some new spells.” _I hope._ This was going to be tougher than Brook had originally thought. Harry was an extremely talented wizard, naturally gifted, in fact, but he lacked the knowledge of advanced magic that the other, more notably older, champions had. That was a problem. She would need to catch him up fast or find some other way to level the playing field. Until they have a clearer picture of what the first task actually entails, running Harry through a spells crash course was going to be their best option at this point.

            The Ministry’s strict “no magic outside Hogwarts” policy was sensible, for the most part. They can’t have inexperienced witches and wizards running amuck, eager to try out all they had learned in the ‘real world’, causing mayhem and possibly exposing themselves to muggles. It was for their own safety. But safety be damned, this was one of the reasons why Hogwarts students have generally lagged behind their international counterparts for the last decade in worldwide assessments. In Brook’s mind, a huge part of magical development was completed outside of school, outside of carefully designed curriculum, and outside of clearly laid out textbooks. Her own improvement stemmed from the struggle in attempting to figure out the intricacies of spell casting: practicing the exact, precise wand movements, improving magical endurance, controlling and focusing her wandless magic, and researching the uncommon spells that weren’t the curriculum. Despite her natural talent for magic, the countless, arduous hours spent in the training room in Wayne Manor sculpted her into the witch that she was. Without practice, the talent would’ve been wasted. Instead of leaving her development solely in the hands of the Ilvermorny faculty, she decided to take matters into her own hands, spending many sleepless nights reading anything and everything that would help her gain an advantage. _Waynes don’t leave things to chance,_ her father would say.

            “What did you have in mind?” Harry inquired, drawing his wand from his shorts pocket. He was undoubtedly tired from the morning conditioning, but he was eager to get started on the magical aspects of his training. His eyes still had that sparkle at the prospect of new magic. Magic had captured his heart four years ago and it hadn’t let go since.

            “Have you ever flown without your broom, Harry?”

            “No, I don’t believe so. I didn’t think that was possible.” Brook pulled her own wand out from her holster, giving it a twirl before responding.

            “In magic, I think it’s harder to find something that is impossible.” Harry shrugged. “Anyways, I guess it’s not exactly flying and more of shooting up into the air. It isn’t done for the obvious safety concerns, but I think for our purposes, it could be useful. Ready?”

            “Ready.” Harry’s eyes narrowed just slightly in concentration. His grip on his wand tightened.

            “You’re going to point your wand up at the sky and say _ascendio._ Give it a try.”  

            “ _Ascendio_.” The Gryffindor did as he was told and was immediately launched a couple feet into the air, his limbs flailing wildly. Not before long, he was rushing back towards the ground with surprising speed. Harry winced, preparing for the impact.

            “ _Arresto Momentum!”_ Instead of the crash that he was expecting, Harry gently landed on the ground without as much as a scratch or bruise. His glasses were askew, barely latching on to his face. His hair was an even bigger mess than it had been before.

            “Thanks.” He took Brook’s offered hand and dusted off his pants. “Let’s go again.”

* * *

 

            Unless she was helping her friends with their homework in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione absolutely despised interruptions while reading. Especially when she was all cozied up in her usual spot with the fireplace roaring and a blanket draped over her lap. But lately, for some reason she couldn’t place, she had started to mind it less and less.

            “Hey Hermione, mind if we join you?” Hermione looked up, placing her finger on the page to keep track of her progress. Her eyes fell upon the ever positive redhead, waiting expectantly, and the heiress who was carrying a load of books herself and was choosing to stay silent.

            “Oh, no. Of course not, go right ahead,” she replied gesturing to the couch across the coffee table from hers. Brook set the books down on the table with a rather loud _thud,_ which earned her a glare and a shushing from Madam Pince. She plucked the top two books from the top of the pile and handed one to her best friend who had already made herself comfortable on the couch. When Brook plopped on to the couch, Alexis, scanning the pages of the book that Fleur had given her, extended her legs and laid them on Brook’s lap. If she minded it, she showed no traces of annoyance and made no effort to move the redhead.

            “How was the training session with Harry, Brooklyn?” Hermione inquired, closing the book now to give Brook her full attention. Brook almost seemed surprised at her question, jumping slightly in her seat. She tore her eyes from the book she had just opened and forced herself to maintain eye contact with the lioness. The words dragged in her throat.

            “It, it was good. We tried some new spells today. I think he’s really starting to get the hang of it.” She trailed off, words hanging in the air. Hermione, always the perceptive one, sensed that there was more than she was letting on.

            “But?”

            “But we can’t do much until we know what we’re going up against.” A sigh escaped her lips and her shoulders slouched just slightly. She gestured to her stack of books, filled with post-it notes threatening to spill out. “The tournament hasn’t been done in centuries, so there isn’t much for us to go on.”

            Hermione opened her book once more, rummaging through the pages of Hogwarts: A History. “I might be able to help you with that.”

            That got the attentions of both Brook and Alexis. They leaned closer in their seats with Alexis sitting upright now.

            “In Hogwarts: A History, there’s a chapter covering the Triwizard Tournament and its founding quite extensively, since the inaugural tournament took place here.” Hermione stopped at a certain page. “And it turns out, that the first modern iteration of the tournament occurred simultaneously with the British wizarding world’s first attempt at diplomacy with the muggle government. To host an event like the Triwizard Tournament, the wizards and witches needed quite a bit of equipment and creatures imported from other countries. And this concerned the muggle ministry because well, obviously, large amounts of imports from a foreign country, magic or otherwise, are of interest to the British government, lest a conflict arise from a commercial misunderstanding between wizards and muggles. So, in order to rectify this problem, the two ministries compromised and agreed to alert the other office if they were expecting a shipment of a “significant payload” within British boundaries. Which means…”

            Brook immediately picked up the trail. “Which means that there must be an official ledger on the Parliamentary servers! Holy shit, Hermione you’re a genius!” And with that, Brook popped up and sprinted out of the library in a hurry, leaving Hermione and Alexis in the dust.

            “You know, I keep telling her to stop doing that,” Alexis said.

            “Run off like that?”

            “Yeah. Whenever she has an idea and gets fixated on something, boom.” Alexis snapped her fingers. “Off she goes, and you might be lucky if she comes out of her research for days. Sometimes, she forgets to eat, which is amazing considering how much that girl lives for pastries.”

            “So, where did she leave to now?”

            “The smart money is that she’s holing up in her room, digging through god knows what.”

            “Shall we, then?” Hermione asked, offering up a hand to help the redhead up from her seat.

            “We shall,” Alexis replied, gladly taking the offered hand. “Let’s go find our wonder girl before she burns herself out.”

            When Hermione and Alexis reached the open doors to Brook’s room in the Ilvermorny dorms, they found the heiress hunched over a keyboard on her desk, typing and clicking furiously. Not only that, an entire section of the wall had transformed itself into a gigantic, interconnected display. Hermione stood in the doorway, slack jawed, but Alexis merely shrugged it off, as if it was an everyday occurrence.

            _So much to know about these Americans,_ Hermione thought to herself.

            “Brook, mind giving us some context into what you’re diving into there?” Alexis asked, plopping down Brook’s bed.

            “Close the doors on your way in.” She replied curtly.

            That shook Hermione out of her reverie, and the witch complied with the request, stepping into the room and closing the doors as she entered. Brook’s eyes never left the display, her entire focus shifted on to the task at hand. It was a bit odd for Hermione, seeing someone so engrossed in their work like she got many times during her schoolwork. It reminded of her in many ways, but this burst of energy, this unbridled determination and efficiency, was something to be admired, even for someone of Hermione’s capabilities.

            _Perhaps that’s what the boys see when I work in the library._ It was a bit intimidating, to be sure. Not because Hermione felt threatened by her work ethic and intelligence, no no, far from it. It just showed her how much Brook is capable of; how much she didn’t know about her.

            “If there really is a ledger, then the British ministry must have official records of it somewhere.” Brook explained, somehow typing even faster.

            Hopping up from the bed, Alexis bounded over to the desk, leaning on the edge.

            “So, what you’re trying to say is that you are hacking into the servers of a foreign government?”

            “You make it sound so clandestine.”

            Alexis scoffed. “Isn’t it?”

            “Well, don’t you wanna know?”

            A pause. “Fair point,” Alexis leaned in. “What have you found so far?”

            “Wait, hold on,” Hermione interrupted, creeping slowly towards the desk, eyeing the information and code that zipped across the displays. “You can just hack the British ministry? Just like that?”

            “Why, Miss Granger?” Brook stopped her typing and turned to face the brunette, sporting a wicked grin. “Do you doubt my abilities?”

            “No, it’s just surprising, that’s all. I can’t fathom how powerful that computer of yours must be. How did you install that in the dorms, anyway?”

            “A blending of magic and technology.” And there she went, back to her typing. “I’ve bypassed all the encryption necessary, it’s just a matter of time before the program picks up a list of any “unusual” imports in the last week.” Just in time, an alert pinged from the center of the display, notifying the group that the search inquiry was complete.

            A single entry turned up: A series of large shipments originating from Bulgaria.

            “Dragons,” the three of them breathed out in unison.

            _Bloody hell. Dragons? Really? I knew the tournament was dangerous, but dragons? Seriously? What was Dumbledore even thinking?_

“I’ve-” Alexis’s face was drained of color. “I gotta tell Fleur.” She rushed towards the doors and yanked them open, but not before telling Brook: “Team meeting. Five minutes. Right here. Be right back.” And with that, she burst out the room.

            Brook leaned back in her seat and let out a groan. “Not another one.”

            Hermione raised her eyebrow. “Another one?”

            “Yeah back at Ilvermorny, when Lex, sorry- Alexis something important she wanted to talk to me about, she’d call these team meeting and we’d meet up and have a serious talk or whatever. Which was stupid considering two people don’t necessarily make a team. But she insisted on calling it ‘team meetings.’”

            “Well, now you do have a team.”

            “If you say so.”

            “I need to go and find Harry.”

            “Of course.”

            “Five minutes?”

            A nod.

            “Five minutes.”

            Then, Brook was left alone, but not for long. Merely three minutes after she had left, Alexis somehow managed to trek all the way out to the Beauxbatons carriage and drag Fleur out to the Ilvermorny dorms.

            “Mon Coeur, you still haven’t told me what has brought you so much trouble.”

            “Not yet. Not until Harry gets here.”

            “Very well. I will wait until the young mister Potter makes an entrance.” Meanwhile, Fleur looked around the room appraisingly. “Is this your room, Mademoiselle Wayne?”

            “Just Brooklyn is fine. And yes it is. There a problem?”

            “Non. Curious, that’s all.” Alexis looked as if she wanted to intervene, but was interrupted by the arrival of Harry and Hermione.

            “Now, can we start?” Fleur asked, poking her girlfriend in her side, causing her to giggle.

            “Yes. Brook?”

            “We figured out what the first task is. It’s-”

            “Dragons.” Harry and Fleur answered at the same time.

            Hermione quickly turned to her best friend in confusion.

            “Wait, you knew?”

            “And you too?” Alexis asked of Fleur.

            “Ron felt guilty about being a prat, so he showed me where they are keeping the dragons. Since his brother is a dragon keeper and all that.” Harry explained.

            “And you didn’t think to inform me about this development?” Hermione inquired.

            “Well, you were busy! With your books!” Harry defended himself, albeit not very well.

            Hermione let out a scoff and crossed her arms over her chest, unsatisfied with his answer. The group’s attention then turned to Fleur.

            “Madame Maxine informed me of the news this morning.”

            “Isn’t that against the rules?” Brook asked, a sly smile forming on her lips. _So, that’s how the games were going to operate._

            “I’m tempted to ask how you received your information, Brooklyn.”

            The heiress barked out a laugh.

            “Fair enough.”

            “So… I guess this team meeting was for nothing then.” Alexis deflated, shoulders slumping slightly.

            “Well, not completely for nothing, chérie. I got to see you again,” Fleur flashed her a brilliant smile. The type that warmed every inch of Alexis’s body and never failed to cause her heart to sputter out of control.

            “Ugh, really? Not in my room please?” Brook rolled her eyes, pretending to gag.

            “I think that is my cue to leave. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” After a quick peck on her girlfriend’s cheek, the veela left the room with an astounding grace for such a late hour.

            “See you at breakfast?” Hermione asked the two Americans.

            “Maybe. Harry, I fully expect to see you at the Great Lake at six. No later.”

            “Merlin have mercy.”

* * *

 

**Day of the First Task.**

 

            The Champions’ waiting area was busy and frantic, buzzing with pre-game activities. Madame Maxine was fussing over Fleur, reminding her of various tactics and strategies that she would have to employ. Karakoff was shouting god knows what in Krum’s ear, presumably hyping him up for the day’s event. Meanwhile, Harry was bombarded with Hermione’s constant stream of advice, worries, and whatever came to her mind. Ron interjected with an occasional quip here and there. Brook was sitting quietly, twirling her wand in her fingers. Alexis sat right next to her, offering comfort through her presence alone.  

            Not soon after, it was time for the dragons to be picked out and all visitors had to leave. Even headmasters. Before she left, Alexis squeezed her hand reassuringly.

            “Just a sec, I need to talk to Fleur beforehand.”

            The redhead walked with determined strides over to the French veela who somehow managed to look as radiant as ever, even in her battle gear. Fleur noticed her approach and met her halfway.

            “Mon ange, you look so troubled. Are you feeling okay?”

            “Me? What about you? You’re the one that has to fight a fire breathing dragon in a couple minutes!”

            “I’ll be perfectly fine, chérie. I promise. Plus, I have you and Gabrielle to come back to.”

            “Promise that you won’t be a hero?”

            “Promise.” Alexis then took the opportunity to wrap the veela in a fierce, bone crushing hug. “Just stay safe,” she whispered in her ear.

            When they pulled away, neither of them were willing to move, relishing the fleeting moment. Fleur chuckled lowly.

            “Why are you looking at my face like you are trying to memorize it?”

            “Because,” Alexis took a half-step forward, cupping Fleur cheek. “I _really_ want to kiss you right now.”

            Fleur was taken aback.

            “Al—Alex, did you get a chance to read the-”

            “Oh screw the damn book, Fleur. I’ve read the whole thing!” And with that, Alexis surged forward and brought Fleur’s lips to her own in a bruising kiss. The French champion didn’t react for a full second in surprise. It was also the most terrifying second of Alexis’s life. Once Fleur’s brain caught up with what was currently happening, she responded in kind, lips moving melodiously in sync with one another. It was hard and desperate, and Alexis tried her best to convey her emotions into the kiss. Fear, adoration, desire, affection, worry, all of it.

            They broke apart, dangerously out of breath, but neither of them seemed to care. There was an aura of tranquility between the two, despite the impending task.

            “Is that what it’s supposed to feel like?” Alexis asked her mate.

            “Well, you are my first and only, but yes. From what my maman and grand-mére have told me, it’s supposed to feel like, how do you say, the last puzzle piece has been placed to form the complete picture. You are my missing piece, mon amour.”

            “You know, when you say stuff like that it makes it really tough to restrain myself from kissing you again.”

            “What’s stopping you?”

            Their lips met again and it was just as electrifying as the first time. Soft lips caressing one another. Hands on robes. Fingers in hair. They wouldn’t have stopped for a few more minutes if not for Mr. Crouch’s announcement.

            “It is now time for the champions to select their dragons! Step up please!”

            “I guess that’s my cue.” Alexis said, echoing Fleur’s line from last night’s meeting.

            “I’ll be back before you know it. Look after Gabrielle for me?”

            “Of course. Always.”

            With that, Alexis headed for the tent exit, but not before talking to her lifelong friend first.

            “So… That certainly took you awhile.” Brook quipped, a smile on her face.

            “Oh, shut up. Stop meddling in my love life.” The redhead slapped Brook’s arm.

            “Any words or threats for me like Fleur? You know, in case I don’t make it back?”

            Another slap.

            “Hey! Don’t hit the champion, Lex!” Brook protested.

            “Don’t joke about that. But no. Not as much as Fleur. I know you, Brook. Just don’t try to show off too much.”

            “I’ll definitely try.”

            Crouch’s voice rang out through the tent once more.

            “That means _all_ champions, Miss Wayne!”

            “I gotta go,” said Alexis. “Be safe, you hear me?”

            “I will.”

            “Com Fortuna Protinus?” asked Alexis.

            “Com Fortuna Protinus.” Brook answered.

            In a blink, she was gone.

* * *

 

            “Brook, I want to show you something.”

            “Hmm?”

            “Brooklyn Wayne, look at your father when he’s speaking please.”

            “Yes, mama.”

            “You know that your family is from a long line of great men and women.”

            “Yes, like grandma!”

            A low chuckle. Much more distant now.

            “Yes, exactly like your grandmother.” He took her hand, walking to his study, his wife in tow, close behind.

            “With that line of prestige, comes tradition. The most important of which is how we live our lives. Our family has risen to where we are because of one rule that stems from a saying: Com Fortuna Protinus.” He pointed towards the family coat of arms.

“Do you what that means, love?”

            She shook her head.

            “It means, ‘With luck, forward.’”

            The child’s brows furrowed in confusion.

            “I thought we didn’t believe in those things, Papa.”

            “In luck, no. No, we do not. Because Waynes, make our own luck. Through carefulness, planning, preparation, and cunning, we define our own destiny. And with that, we have no other option than to go forward. Do you understand that, sweetheart?”

            A hesitant nod.

            “Someday, you’ll understand, Brook. The world is a difficult place. But with luck—with _our_ luck, you’re destined for greatness. I just know it.” 

* * *

 

_Com Fortuna Protinus._

            She chanted the words over and over in her mind. Sometimes whispering them to no one but herself.

            The tent was now barren. She was the last champion left. Krum had gone first, then Harry, and Fleur had left to face her dragon, a Common Welsh Green, just minutes prior.

            Brook had the misfortune of selecting the fiercest of the bunch: the Hungarian Horntail.

_Com Fortuna Protinus._

            From the times that each prior champion had taken, they all had completed their tasks with high efficiency.

_Com Fortuna Protinus._

            The volume of the crowd suggested that they all had received high marks from the judges.

_Com Fortuna Protinus._

            Her right hand was shaking uncontrollably. So much so that she had to grip it with her left to stop it from vibrating.

_Com Fortuna Protinus._

            There was a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. As if she knew something was bound to go wrong. That she might not be fast enough. Clever enough. Brave enough. _Good enough._

_Com Fortuna Protinus._

            Over the loudspeaker, she heard the voice of the announcer:

            “And last but not least, the champion from Ilvermorny, Brooklyn Wayne!”

            Time to go.

_Com Fortuna Protinus._

* * *

 

            Hermione was on the edge of her seat. She was equally impressed, horrified, and awed by the feats she had seen today. Sure, the practice of using sentient magical beings for our entertainment at their expense was barbaric. And of course, seeing teenagers nearly get charred alive was terrifying.

            But seeing ingenuity and magical skill from all the champions was exhilarating. The brunette was certain that she was going to pass out from the anxiety that came with worrying for Harry’s safety (for the fourth straight year, mind you) during his task, but before long, it was clear Brooklyn had prepared him well. The Gryffindor seeker had executed the long range _Accio_ spell perfectly, and used his quidditch skills to expertly maneuver around the dragon as they took flight into the skies. In the distance, she caught Harry performing spells she knew weren’t included in the past Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum. They must have come from the heiress.

            After a few torturous minutes later, Harry swooped into the arena and snatched the egg with the dragon close behind him. He had received a score of 46, good enough to beat Krum.

            Then, Fleur entered the arena. And in the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Alexis tense up beside her. The redhead’s eyes ever left the grounds below and she reached and clasped a young blonde girl’s hand with her own. Hermione saw various emotions playing out on her face in the span of minutes: fear, worry, panic, then immense relief.

            To Hermione’s right, however, it was a completely different story. Ginny was enraptured for all the other reasons. She called out for action, for danger. When Hermione chided her for it, she merely replied with, “but it’s a sporting event, Hermione! Loosen up a bit!”

            Her brother was not any better. He was worse, really. Ron was worried for Harry, of course, but when it came to Fleur, it was as if a switch inside his brain had magically flipped and he quickly turned into a drooling idiot, blatantly staring at the physique of the French champion. The task was buried far back in his mind. After she had snagged her own egg with an impressive sleeping incantation, Fleur exited the arena with as much grace as she entered it, head held high, flashing a bright smile, and taking the time to blow a kiss in their direction (mostly in Alexis’s direction). When Fleur’s task was over, the only thing that Ron could think of to say was, “Bloody hell, what I wouldn’t do get a date with her.” That earned him punches from both his sister and his friend.

            Then finally, it was Brooklyn’s turn. Hermione glanced towards her left, expecting to see the same emotions etched onto Alexis’s face. On the contrary, the redhead was set, determined, and confident. She was appearing to say some phrase under her breath to no one in particular. Hermione couldn’t tell if Fleur’s success had given Alexis more confidence and faith, but something about this task was going to be different. She could feel it in the air, in her gut.

            Brooklyn stood stoutly near the mouth of the arena, decked out in what could only be described as tactical battle gear. She was dressed in all white armor plating with accents of black at the junction of each plate. The armor conformed to her body, still maintaining her mobility. It didn’t seem to be bulky at all, blending in with whatever weaving lied beneath the plates. She let her raven hair fall free, foregoing the helmet Hermione presumed completed the full armor.

            Even with the presence of this fearsome beast, the Hungarian Horntail, Brooklyn did not waver a single bit.

            Not even a twitch of her fingers.

            She stared it down, peering into the pupils of the beast. Matching its ferocity in equal intensity and measure. At the sound of the cannon, both of them sprang into action immediately. The Horntail sending out an experimental sweep of its spiked tail in the general vicinity of Brooklyn’s position, while Brooklyn skillfully dodged the blow, leaping out of danger and rolling in a somersault to deaden the impact of the fall.

            Instead of staying under cover, Brooklyn jumped back up and charged towards the beast. After her second stride, she began to hurl harmless spells at the Horntail that bounced off its scales. It only seemed to anger the beast further. It let out a blood-curling, rage-filled roar and geared to send a blast of fire Brooklyn’s way.

            Hermione turned to Alexis, searching for answers.

            “What is she doing? She’s going to get herself killed!” Her voice was shaky, uncertain.

            “Just trust her. She knows what she’s doing.”

            “Merlin! It’s going to—Brooklyn!”

            The Horntail breathed a fierce, blistering column of fire straight at Brooklyn, which she dodged again, using her agility and athleticism. Without stopping to catch her breath or to reassess her strategy, Brooklyn began to sprint circles around the dragon, all the while flinging spells in its direction that didn’t carry enough power to inflict significant damage, but just enough to annoy the Horntail, stoking its rage. The fact that Brooklyn kept dodging its onslaught of attacks without much problem didn’t help either. it was an extremely dangerous idea to play around like Brooklyn was doing with the Horntail, as it was the most powerful, violent, and violent of the dragons. Sooner or later, it was going to unleash the full extent of its fury upon Brooklyn, and with the way this was going, Hermione wasn’t sure if the heiress would live to tell the tale.

            Only after a few seconds, she could see the telltale signs of the impending explosion. The outlines of the crusty scales of the Horntail began to glow blood red, signaling a major burst of energy and fire. There was no possible way Brooklyn was going to survive this task. Hermione shot Alexis a panicked look.

            “Alexis, we have to do something! She’s going to die out there!”

            “Wait.”

            “It’s going to burn her alive! Can’t you see?” Hermione cried out, her tone desperate. She wasn’t listening. Oh god. Hermione felt her vision blur and noticed that she was tearing up. She couldn’t let her just die out there. But there’s nothing she could do to stop the inevitable.

            The Horntail was a mere moment away from fully charging for a spectacular blast. Brooklyn stood just thirty yards away from the beast, staring at it defiantly. The dragon opened its mouth and Brooklyn could see the fire climbing its way from its stomach, itching to shoot.

_Now!_

            “AQUA ERUCTO!”

            Just as soon as an enormous column of fire launched out of the Horntail, an equally destructive and powerful jet of water burst out from Brooklyn’s wand. Hermione’s jaw dropped to the floor. She had never seen raw magical power from someone else before. Not even Harry or Dumbledore. The ensuing clash of fire and water enveloped the entire arena, bleachers and all, in a thick, consuming fog. After a few seconds, Hermione couldn’t even see her hands that were only a foot in front of her.

            The audience was blinded and murmurs of confusion broke out among the students. Thankfully, a gust of wind cleared the entire area of fog within seconds. The view presented to the crowd was shocking: the dragon was on its side, collapsed, presumably exhausted from its overexertion in the blast. But Brooklyn was nowhere to be seen. Everyone in the bleachers seemed to pick up on the disappearance of the heiress and began looking around frantically, wondering what had happened.

            Then, only a row or two behind where Hermione sat, a voice cut through the silence.

            “Holy shit! Did you guys see that? Wasn’t that just fucking amazing?”

            Hermione jerked her head towards the sound of the voice and found Brooklyn standing unscathed in the bleachers, with a huge smug grin plastered on her face.

            “And look, the egg!”

            From under her arm, she grabbed the prize with one hand and hoisted it victoriously into the air.

            The arena erupted with rapturous applause.

            Brooklyn looked directly at Hermione, and winked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and leaving kudos and comments you guys. Y'all keep me going. 
> 
> I'll see you soon.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: window-raindrops
> 
> P.S. Now you know why the fic is titled this way!


	9. You're It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, updates on consecutive weeks? Am I feeling okay? 
> 
> Anyways, here's a bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you guys still enjoy it.
> 
> Thank you for all the kind comments on the last chapter; let me know what you think of this one as well!

            Trudging back into the champion’s tent triumphantly with the egg tucked under her arm, Brook just about nearly crashed on to the makeshift bed that Madam Pomfrey had set up for potential injuries. Her muscles were burning with exhaustion, though not from the magical exertion. As soon as she walked into Madam Pomfrey’s domain, the nurse immediately began to fuss over her, checking her extremities for clear signs of injury, especially burns. In the midst of the check-up, Alexis, Gabrielle, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron sprinted towards Brook’s bed from speaking with Fleur and Harry, eager to reunite with the Ilvermorny champion.

            “Out! All of you! None of you are allowed to come in until after I have cleared Miss Wayne.” Madam Pomfrey demanded, pointing back towards the entrance. The group shared a sheepish look and shrank back out of the tent, electing wisely to wait the few minutes the check-up would require.

            The Hogwarts nurse huffed. “Sometimes I swear the kids have no sense of patience whatsoever.” She turned her attention back to Brook. “Has anyone at Ilvermorny ever told you that you are far too reckless, Miss Wayne?”

            Brook donned a soft smile. “Just about every other day.”

            “Well, I’m not surprised. That’s some stunt you pulled out there. Half a second too late, and I would have needed to tend to your charred corpse!”

            “Good thing I have good timing, huh?”

            “Do try to be more careful in the next trial. Merlin knows why Dumbledore is going along with this forsaken competition in the first place. You should take it easy for the next couple of days, let your muscles rest for a period or two.”

            “Will do.”

            When the nurse walked away to tend to other matters, a certain red-haired head popped out from the tent covers.

            “Is she gone?” Alexis asked, her voice low.

            Brook chuckled. “Yes, she’s gone. You guys can come in now.”

            With an excited squeal, Alexis led the charge, and barreled into Brook, enveloping her in a fierce bear hug.

            “That was so good! You killed it, Brook! Even though you had me worried for a second there near the end.”

            “Good to know I can still surprise you.”

            “Yeah, that was bloody brilliant, what you did. Goading the dragon to your advantage? Genius,” supplied Ron, offering his approval.

            By this time, Harry, Fleur, and Krum had also made their way towards Brook’s station. The Bulgarian gave his congratulations first, not being one to wait around for much.

            “Your skill was admirable. Nice performance.” His voice was gruff and heavily accented but the sincerity carried through just the same.

            “Thanks, the same goes for you.” Krum nodded at Brook, perhaps as a sign of respect and walked out of the tent. “Hm. Laconic. I respect that.”

            Next was Harry. He was sporting a bright smile as he wrapped her into a hug of his own.

            “You are absolutely mad, Brooklyn. Brilliant, but mad. That was some awe-inspiring stuff you pulled off back there.”

            “Hey, you didn’t do too bad yourself. 46? That’s impressive.”

            Harry grinned and scratched the back of his head.

            “I don’t think I could have done it without your help, Brooklyn.”

            “You can pay me back by not eating all the damn chocolate croissants at dinner for once.”

            A warm smile.

            “Done deal, Miss Wayne. Pleasure doing business with you.” He stuck out his hand, his voice draped in a teasing tone.

            “Ugh stop. Lord knows I get enough company speak as is during conference calls.” Brooklyn stuck out her tongue, yet still shook Harry’s hand.

            Then, it was Fleur. Who practically had her sister and Alexis glued to her sides. The latter was being overly touchy with the PDA but she let it slide. For now. She was definitely going to be teased for that later, though.

            “I must say, Brooklyn. I was impressed.”

            “Likewise. It must have been difficult to maintain composure while trying to perform a sleeping incantation in front of an angry dragon, I imagine.”

            Fleur pursed her lips, choosing her next words carefully.

            “Merci. I would like to discuss strategies for the next task sometime, if you are willing.”

            “Of course. Just tell me when.”

            Alexis eyes shifted from Fleur to Brook and then back to Fleur again. There was something palpable in the air. She just couldn’t place it. It wasn’t overtly apparent, but there were inklings of a tug of war, gearing to take place between the two. She would deal with that later.

            “Hey! I heard some of the Gryffindors were planning a party for the champions. Should we check it out?” Alexis asked the group, hoping to prompt a topic change. She sent a look Brook’s way that the heiress knew meant, _Not now, but we’re talking about this._

            The group murmured their approval of the venue change and started to make their way out the tent. Hermione lingered behind the pack and called out:

            “You guys go on ahead, I’ll catch up with you lot later.”

            Some murmured hums of acknowledgment as they filed out.

            When everyone had left towards the main campus for the party, Hermione turned her attention to Brook. A beat of silence. Her forehead was creased in worry, her brows scrunched together in that kind of adorable way when she’s thinking or upset. Or both. Brook noticed how her normally well-ironed robes were bunched and wrinkled near her hip. She must have been holding on for dear life. Brook had a notion that she was about to get an earful for her antics today.

            “Brooklyn Wayne, do you have any idea how dangerously stupid—” _Yup. There it is._ “And reckless you were back there?” Hermione folded her arms across her chest to emphasis. “Harry, I can expect, he’s geared for action first, thought second, but you? I at least thought you would take a moment to consider before embarking on a suicide mission! I counted six different instances where you could have died in that arena today. Six! One missed step, or a split-second hesitation could have burned you to a crisp, Brooklyn. Is your life worth your showboating?” She paused and her arms fell to her sides and her shoulders drooped. All that worry must have taken a toll on her stamina. When she began again, her voice was much smaller, almost a faint whisper.

            “If you or Harry died in front of my eyes today, there would have been nothing I could have done to help you. I would have been helpless—I would have watched you die.”

            At that moment, Brook felt something slightly scratching, pulling away at her chest. She saw just how much pressure the girl was under. Beyond the wild hair and the stacks of books, Hermione Granger was the Brightest Witch of Her Age. And along with that nickname, came many expectations. Expectations for her to be smarter than everyone else, to have the answers even when she didn’t know the question yet. The duty and obligation that came along with being the brains of the Golden Trio. Without her, Harry and Ron would and _should_ have been dead during their first year. Without her, Harry would have never gotten this far. Her friends’ survival was largely dependent on her abilities.

            And the four years—God, four years? To worry about the safety and fate of not just yourself but of your closest friends as well in all of her years in Hogwarts? The pressure must have been crushing. Knowing the perfectionist that Hermione was, it wasn’t far off the realm of possibilities that the witch spent many nights contemplating all the ways her adventures could have gone horribly wrong. If she didn’t know the right spell, performed the wrong charm, prepared an incorrect proportion of an obscure potion, then it would be all over. She was just a teenager, for Merlin’s sake! The world was changing and shifting so rapidly around her that it was difficult at times, even for her, to grasp her bearings. But she had no choice but to evolve concurrently: study more spells, spend more hours with tired, aching eyes in the library, be vigilant for anything— _anything—_ that could give them an edge in whatever they would face next. But all that effort would be for naught if she messed up. She was running away what she believed was the inevitable, that one day, she might not know enough to save her friends. That one day, due to a miscalculation on her part, she would be forced to watch her world crumble to ashes before her eyes. And she would be helpless to do anything against the rushing current.

            Brook rose slowly from the bed, rising to meet the hazel eyes with her grey. The heiress, against all natural instincts and judgement, initiated the contact, bringing Hermione into a soft, yet firm hug.

            “I’m sorry for worrying you, Hermione. I can’t promise that I won’t get into any more danger, but I can promise you that I’ll be more careful next time.” Pulling away, Brook saw the glassy look Hermione was giving her. The lioness choked out a tight laugh before quipping,

            “And you promise to stop being an arse when you perform magic?”

            “I can’t promise that far.” Brook replied with a smirk on her face. The smirk faded away, giving way to a more serious look. “Hey, do you trust me?”

            “What?” Hermione asked, surprised at the shift.

            “Do you trust me?”

            After a brief moment of thought, Hermione gave her answer.

            “Yes. You are an extraordinary witch, Brooklyn.”

            “With a vote of confidence from you, Hermione, who’s to say that I won’t walk away unscathed every time?”

            Hermione laughed and gave Brook a playful nudge.

            “Okay, Supergirl. If you’re well enough to joke around, then let’s go join the party.”

            The two witches walked side by side across the rolling hills of the Scottish landscape that housed the greater Hogwarts campus. The wind nipped at their exposed faces, reddening them as them went on. Thankfully, Hermione was wrapped up in her usual gold and wine Gryffindor scarf while Brook’s battle outfit extended out to cover her neck as well. Still, the frigid Scottish air was enough to make them shiver at points. Without explicitly trying to do so, Hermione and Brook inched closer and closer, brushing shoulders.

            “So,” Hermione started. “Any initial leads on the egg?”

            Brook pulled the egg out from under her arm and held it out in front of her for both of them to see.

            “Obviously, the top cap opens the egg along the four grooves on the on the sides here.” Brook ran a finger along the crevice. “But I’d first like to get it scanned by my computer before I do anything with it.”

            “Your computer can do that?”

            “It can, and more. And before you ask, I didn’t build it. I helped with certain inputs and elements of the code, but the main hardware, that was built by my company’s R&D team.”

            “My, my, Miss Wayne. Using company resources for personal projects? How scandalous.” Hermione teased playfully, giving Brook a nudge.

            “I assure you Miss Granger,” Brook answered, playing along with Hermione’s game. “That Wayne Enterprises’ funds and resources are being used for a worthy and noble cause.”

            The lioness jumped ahead a few paces and turned around to face Brook, putting on a serious, professional look. While walking backwards, she pretended to pull out a notepad and a pen and take notes, giving her best reporter imitation.

            “And what might this ‘worthy and noble cause’ be, Miss Wayne?”

            “My victory, of course. What else could it be?”

            Raising an eyebrow, Hermione asked, “Are you not concerned of the ethical ramifications of this practice?”

            “In my experience, ethics tend to go out the window when a competition is involved. You can ask Mr. Malfoy about his last quidditch match if you’d like further explanation.”

            At that, the two of them shared a laugh, remembering how Draco Malfoy, along with his cronies, purposely aimed to injure an opposing player in their last match. His plan would have worked, if they weren’t playing the best young quidditch player in the world in Victor Krum. At the end, Malfoy’s plan backfired, and it was him who had to be escorted to the infirmary due to a broken rib.

            “We were right there too, when he broke it. I despise him, but it did sound pretty painful.” Hermione grimaced at the recollection.

            “Really? You feel bad for Malfoy? Because a little birdy told me that you broke his nose last year.”

            Hermione gasped. “Did Harry tell you that? Bloody hell, I’m going to murder that boy.”

            “Language, Miss Granger! Is that the type of vocabulary fitting for a model student? Fifty points from Gryffindor!”

            The lioness lightly shoved Brook, causing the heiress to cry out in alarm and laughter.

            “Don’t be an arse.” Hermione warned.

            “Shall I make it a hundred points?”

            “I can transfigure you into a ferret, you know.”

            Brook raised her hands in surrender.

            “Okay, okay. You win. Just please don’t turn me into ferret. Or any animal, for that matter.”

            “How about an eagle?”

            “Still no.”

            “A corgi?”

            “Absolutely not.”

            A couple beats of silence. Then:

            “What about an otter?”

* * *

 

            Brook trudged into her room, nursing her sore ears as she tried to get the ringing out from her system. _At least I wasn’t the one who opened the damn thing. Poor Harry must be deaf by now._

            Her steps were heavy, weighed down from the numerous events of the day. Facing a fire-breathing dragon, for one. Attending a rambunctious party hosted by the Weasley twins was a killer. Even parties hosted by trust fund babies didn’t get this rowdy. And then afterwards, she had to give an interview to the Daily Prophet while slightly tipsy which took all of her brain power and Wayne family training to not slip up.

            And now? She was completely spent.

            Brook wanted nothing more to just collapse on to her impossibly soft bed and sleep the night away, without a care in the world for what classes she had in the morning.

            The faint natural moonlight illuminated the room somewhat, but her vision, for the most part, is impaired in the darkness.

            “Lights on.” She commanded.

            The lights in her room gradually lit up, which revealed a sleeping Alexis on her bed.

            “Ahh!” Brook involuntarily yelled out, her right hand flying to her holster.

            “Ahh!” Alexis responded in kind, equally surprised by Brook’s outburst.

            Brook, thankfully, recognized the intruder in time to prevent a flurry of spells. She was however, busy catching her breath.

            “What the fuck? You scared the living shit out of me!”

            “Sorry! Sorry! I was waiting for you to finish your interview and I promised myself I would just lie down for a little bit, but your bed…” Alexis sighed longingly.

            “Is really fucking soft, I know. I can have one delivered here, it’ll take a couple days.”

            “Really?” Alexis’s bright green eyes lit up at the proposition. She then remembered her original intent for her visit and cleared her throat. “I’m not here because of your bed.”

            “Is this what you wanted to talk about?” Brook asked as she headed towards her walk-in closet, losing articles of clothing as she walked.

            “Yeah, it is.”

            “This about Fleur?” Brook called out.

            “Mm hmm!”

            “Okay, just gimme a second.”

            When Brook returned, she was wearing a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt, essentially her sleep wear. Alexis patted the space to her right, motioning for Brook to sit in the empty space. The heiress obliged, and the bed dipped from their collective weight.

            “So,” Brook began, trying to get Alexis’s attention. The redhead’s gaze was firmly glued to her feet. “What’s on your mind?”

            Alexis faced her with a concerned look. “Do you have a problem with Fleur?”

            Brook chuckled weakly. “Now, why would I have a problem with your girlfriend, Lex?”

            Alexis’s brows scrunched up in disapproval.

            “I know you, Brook. I know when you’re being an asshole just to be an asshole. I also know when something is bothering you. So, spill.”

            She sat there expectantly, waiting for any kind of response.

            “Brook…”

            Nothing. The youngest Wayne didn’t dare to meet her green eyes.

            “Brooklyn… I don’t need to tickle it out of you, do I?”

            A gasp.

            “You wouldn’t dare!”

            “Try me.”

            Brook sighed deeply and her attention returned to her feet.

            “It’s—it’s just that,” she paused for a moment before staring intently into Alexis’s eyes. “You’re my best friend, Lex. You’re…my only friend.” Her pale grey eyes dropped to the floor for a split second.

            “Sometimes I feel like I’m losing you. I never see you outside of class, and even in class, I’m not even sitting by you anymore. And maybe that’s childish, selfish, and petty. I don’t know. I’ve never been too good at this-” Brook gestured to the space between their bodies. “This whole friends deal. I’ve lost too many already, Lex. I, I don’t want to lose the only good thing I’ve got left. You’re all I’ve got.” She whispered the last words, barely audible.

            “Oh, Brook. Come here.” Alexis wrapped the heiress in one of her patented hugs as she ran soothing circles on her back. “You’re not going to lose me, you hear? Not now, not ever. I’ll try to be more aware of how much time I spend with Fleur from now on.”

            Brook jerked back from the embrace.

            “N-no, no. Don’t do that. She makes you happy; I shouldn’t take that away from you.”

            “She does, but not at the expense of my best friend. Who knows? Maybe you guys will even be good friends one day.”

            “Maybe. But I’ll try all the same. For you.”

* * *

            Brook was walking to the Ilvermorny dorms from the transfiguration class she shared with Alexis when she spotted him in all of his famed splendor. The lengthy beard, the odd hat, and the silvery robe that Dumbledore so adored. The old wizard appeared to be looking for something or someone, peering into various classrooms with interest.

            Once he caught a glance of the two Americans walking side by side, talking about how, “I swear I’m going to punch that smug smile of off his stupid face one day,” Dumbledore sported a knowing smile and advanced towards them, meeting the two in the middle of the hallway.

            “Miss Wayne. Miss Thompson.” He greeted them with a slight nod of his head. “I was wondering, Miss Wayne, if you had a moment to speak about an upcoming event in the tournament.”

            “Oh, yes. Certaintly.” Brook responded.

            Next to the heiress, Alexis’s kept her gaze on Dumbledore but leaned over to Brook and whispered, “Should I leave?”

            “On the contrary, Miss Thompson,” Dumbledore replied. “I do believe this news does concern you and Miss Delacour as well.” He winked, flashing a sly smirk.

            “How did you-”

            “On the night of Christmas, the muggle holiday that you both must be familiar with, there has always been a formal ball between all the schools, complete with a dance floor and a live accompaniment. The reason why I’m telling you this news specifically, Miss Wayne, is because the champions perform a dance first in front of the student body-”

            That shouldn’t be a problem; Brook was well versed in the ways of formal galas, dances, and balls from all the ones she’s had to host and attend as the Wayne Enterprises representative.

            Dumbledore wasn’t finished however.

            “-with a partner.”

_Oh fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Brook.


	10. One Down...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD AND NEITHER IS THIS FIC. ok hi. I've been awol with shooting my film and adjusting to college, but I'm here and will hopefully be updating with some resemblance of regularity. I'm terribly sorry. It's a short chapter, but I like to think that it's better than no chapter for the sake of productivity. Enjoy the chapter!

    “Gosh, a dance? Isn’t that exciting?” Alexis was practically vibrating with excitement, spinning around in Brook’s desk chair while the owner of said chair was busy perusing through files on god knows what on her bed. Brook didn’t even register what Alexis had said, too engrossed in her work. The redhead huffed in annoyance and called out to her best friend.

    “Brook? Did you even hear me?”

    With eyes still glued to the reports in her hands, the heiress replied with an unfocused “Hmm?”

    “I said, are you even listening?”

    “Yeah, yeah, of course I am.” She trailed off, muttering something about _unusually high frequencies_ under her breath and flipping a page.

    “Oh yeah? What was I talking about?”

    Brook set the reports down on her lap and sighed.

    “You were talking about how excited you are for the Yule Ball.”

    “Oh,” Alexis said, surprised. “You were listening.”

    “Didn’t I say that?”

    “Well, I didn’t believe you; Your head was buried in your lab reports.”

    “A Wayne—” Brook started, echoing her father’s words.

    “—Always pays attention, even to the smallest of details. Yeah, I know.” Alexis leapt up from the chair and plopped down on the bed next to Brook, her strawberry curls splaying across the bed sheet. “So?” Alexis asked, expectantly.

    “So, what?”

    “What are you going to do about the dance?”

    “Nothing. I’m not asking anyone.”

    At that, Alexis immediately sat up, facing her friend with wild eyes.

    “Wait, what? You can’t just not ask anyone!”

    The heiress was busy marking notes on the 17th page of the report in her hands.

    “I can and I will.” She muttered.

    “But isn’t it tradition and all that for the champions to go? Dumbledore even said so.”

    “Dumbledore doesn’t know that I have no one to go with.” Brook tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, chewing her bottom lip as she thought of different hypotheses regarding the golden egg.

    “That’s not true!” Alexis contested. “You have…”

    Brook scoffed. “Who? You’re going with Fleur. And while I am happy for you, you are the only person in the world I can go to the dance with.”

    The redhead thought pensively for a moment, trying to think of the right words to say or the right ideas to conjure up.

    “Oh, I got it!” She snapped her fingers, nearly startling the poor girl just trying to read in peace. “How about Hermione? You guys are friends, right?”

    A furious blush colored Brook’s cheeks while she attempted to explain herself.

    “Well, yes. No, but the thing is—actually,”

    Alexis held up her hands in surrender.

    “Hey, if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to.”

    “It’s not that I don’t want to,” She paused for a moment. “I, I don’t think she’ll say yes.”

    At that, Alexis scooted across the bed, bringing her body just inches away from her best friend’s. She laid a reassuring hand on the heiress’s shoulder.

    “Brook. Brooklyn. Look at me please.” Her pale grey eyes lifted to meet Alexis’s. “You are the strongest, smartest, and most wonderful person I know who isn’t named Fleur Delacour. I haven’t been your best friend for years just because. You’re sweet and caring when you let yourself, and you are absolutely brilliant. For god’s sake, you’re the head of a multi-billion dollar company! You bring old asshole CEOs to their knees, begging for your mercy, you’ve been on the cover of Forbes twice before your fifteenth birthday, mind you, and I’m pretty sure you are the only witch in this entire school who can perform wandless magic like you can. So why on earth wouldn’t you be good enough for Hermione Granger?”

    Alexis draped her arm over Brooklyn’s shoulder.

    “And I don’t want to force you to do something that you don’t want to do,” her voice was much softer now. “But if Hermione is really the brightest witch of her age, then she’ll be smart enough to say yes to you.”

    The duo sat there on the bed for a few minutes in silence, content in the silence.

    “Lex?” Brook asked, looking up from her staring at her bedsheets.

    “Hmm?”

    “I’ll ask her.”

* * *

    

    It didn’t take long for the French champion to make her move. The sun was just beginning to set on the Hogwarts campus; the streaks of blood red rays peeked from beyond the distant clouds. Most of the creatures in the surrounding woodlands prepared for their nightly slumber. But the inhabitants of the ancient Scottish castle were still buzzing about, swiping pre-dinner snacks from the kitchen, starting up homework in the library, or going over Quidditch tactics in the locker room post practice.

    In the case of Brooklyn Wayne and Alexis Thompson, the two were sprawled out on the couches of the library, finishing up essays due for potions class. Their work was left unimpeded for the most part, despite a few grumblings from Brook about “busy work,” as she called it. Right around dinner time, a certain French voice interrupted their work flow.

    “I don’t mean to be rude and disturb your work, but we are approaching our reservation, mon coeur.”

    Alexis lifted her head from her parchment scroll, her strawberry curls bouncing along. Her bright smile was immediate, and she stuck out her hand for the veela to take. In a graceful, yet strong motion, Fleur pulled the redhead from the couch and held her in a tight embrace.

    “Why, you sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Miss Delacour.” Alexis giggled.

    “Oh, this is only an appetizer, I assure you,” Fleur whispered dangerously close to Alexis’s ear, her breath ghosting at her skin.

    Brook chose that moment to intervene for her sake and for the sake of the other students in the library.

    “All right, lovebirds. Get a move on before Pince kicks you out. Literally.”

    The rest of the night was a lovely affair. It started with Fleur treating Alexis to a rather romantic candlelit dinner in Hogsmeade. The French champion had spent the last two weeks planning for this night and a good chunk of her time had been devoted to discovering a secret pathway that might lead them into the village undetected. Eventually, after hours and hours of searching and prodding, she finally found a strange loose brick in a section of a wall. A little push here, a little forceful spell there, and the passage revealed itself without much trouble: a literal glitch in the wall.

    The sky was now a deep navy, the streets illuminated by the lights that lined them. Flurries of snow blanketed the ground in a relaxed tempo. And thanks to the inclement weather, only a few souls roamed the streets and alleys of Hogsmeade that night.

    The interior of the restaurant was characterized by a comfortable warmth, radiating from the central fireplace in waves. First their wind-bit cheeks, then their torsos and legs, then their hands and feet. Part by part, their aching bodies were thawed out, the fire replacing the bitter cold with a delicious glow.

    Dinner was quiet. If anything, it was comfortable with the appropriate small talk and not-so-subtle flirtations sent both ways. It wasn’t much, but they took great solace in each other’s presence. A quick glance, a swipe of her fingers, a curl of her hair around her finger, a shared dessert. It was simple. It was also more than anything they could have asked for. It was just the two of them, and that was enough.

    After the meal, Fleur had one more event planned for the night, leading Alexis down to a bar that had suspiciously closed for the night. The door was locked shut, complete with a completely non-magical and comically large lock. They stopped at the foot of the steps leading to the establishment.

    “Seems pretty early for a bar to be closed,” Alexis mused, her fingers still interlaced with Fleur’s.

    “The owner of the bar and I,” she paused to dig up an equally large key from her pocket. “Have a secret agreement.” She finished, sporting a mischievous grin. The lock gave way without much effort and the French champion held the door open for her date.

    “After you, ma Cherie.”

    “You are _such_ a gentleman, Miss Delacour.” Alexis said, donning on a southern belle accent while batting her eyes at Fleur. Her knees almost buckled for a second, but she held strong, relying on the past few rigorous months of physical training to keep her upright.

 _Get it together, Fleur. Focus._ She chided herself.

    Following her date, Fleur was a few steps behind, looking on expectantly. Alexis stood dead center of the dimly lit bar area, which had been cleared of tables and chairs beforehand at Fleur’s request.

    “I didn’t know that this was here,” Alexis breathed out, taking the scene in.

    Fleur stepped closer.

    “It’s quite beautiful, non? It’s not fancy, but it has its charms.”

    “Yes, it reminds me of—”

    “Home?” The veela interjected. In that moment, she raised her hand, and snapped. At once, the bar hummed to life, and neon signs began to fill the space. A previously unseen pool table was illuminated and the bottles in the bar reflected the lights in a beautiful kaleidoscope.

    “And that’s not even the best part,” she said, walking over to the right wall, where a classic jukebox was stored. Fishing a nickel out from her pocket, Fleur pushed the coin in and pressed the corresponding buttons for her song of choice, prompting the iconic guitar intro. The champion spun around, gave Alexis a look, and began dancing her way over to her date.

 

_Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans_

_Way back up in the woods among the evergreens_

_There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood_

_Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode_

    Alexis burst out in laughter, and not to be outdone, joined in on the dancing while dangerously close to Fleur.

    “How do you know this song?” Alexis asked through a giggle.

    “I did my homework.”

    They dance for a little while longer, until Alexis’ smile briefly faltered and she stopped.

    “Is there something wrong, mon coeur?”

    Alexis took a step, eliminating what little space had been left between them.

    “Aren’t you forgetting something?” She whispered in her ear, causing involuntary shudders.

    “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

    “Sure you do. You just have to let the words fall out.”

    Fleur took a deep breath.

    “Alex, will you— _merde—_ would you like to be my date to the Yule Ball?”

    Alexis donned on a wide, blinding smile.

    “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you in a bit!


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